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HARVARD 
COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 


Preservation  facsimile 

printed  on  alkaline/buffered  paper 

and  bound  by 

Acme  Bookbinding 

Charlestown,  Massachusetts 

2004 


THE  BUSINESS 
HISTORICAL 
SOCIETY  iNC 


The  Heirs  of 
Seorge  0.  Dompsey 


TRANSFERRED 


HARVARD  COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 


IN    PRAISE    OF    ALE. 


NARVAM)  C0UE6C  LIBKAffT 

FROM  THE  HDR8  OF 

GEORGE  C.  DEiPSEY 


Soc  4732.247,30 

A 


am  Of 

The  Heirs  eT 
Oeoffge  a  Dcmpey 


Sn    Iptniit    ot    9tlt 


Oft 


SONGS,  BALLADS,  EPIGRAMS,  &  ANECDOTES 
RELATING  TO  BEER,  MALT,  AND  HOPS 


WITH  90M1  CURJOUS  PARTICULAR 
CONCEHNINO 

AL£-WIV£S     AND     BREWERS 
DRINKING-CLUB8    AND    CUSTOMS 


Collected  and  Arranged  by 
W.     T.     M  A  R  C  H  A  N  T 


"  Tktnt  maiy  a  eUntimg  mt^  it  made 
Jm  kmtmr  •ftke  BlacktmitKt  tr»»e  ; 

&ii  wmrefmr  the  Brrwer  may  be  taU^ 
IVkkk  MUdy  can  i%." 


LONDON 
GEORGE  RBDWAY,  YORK  STREET,  COVENT  GARDEN 

1888 


vi  Preface. 

Guildhall  Library  has  laid  me  under  lasting  obligations,  as  has 
also  the  late  Mayor  of  Dorchester,  Alfred  Pope,  Esq. 

Last,  but  not  least,  a  tribute  of  thankfulness  from  every  book- 
maker and  reader  at  the  British  Museum  is  due  to  the  officials  of 
that  noble  Institution,  from  the  Head  of  the  Staff  to  the  youngest 
member  thereof.  I  have  been  a  reader  for  many  years^  and  have 
always  received  the  greatest  courtesy  and  assistance  from  all,  and 
this  is  the  more  marked,  inasmuch  as  I  am  scarcely  known,  in- 
dividually, even  by  name  to  any  one  of  them. 

All  the  virtues  of  this  book,  therefore,  do  not  belong  to  me, 
though,  unquestionablyy  the  faults  do.  Trusting,  therefore,  that 
the  public  and  my  friends  wiU — 

*^  Be  to  its  virtues  very  kind. 
And  to  its  faults  a  little  blind," 

I  launch  the  venture  on  the  wave  of  public  opinion  to  sink  or  swim 

on  its  own  merits. 

W.  T.  M. 

Balham,  January  18.88. 


P.S. — I  began  cotteclmg  material  for  the  following  work  years 
ago;  and  In  May  1884  commenced  a  leriej  of  article  J  In  the 
**  Burton  Chronicle."  Tim  terlet  ran  ahout  twelve  months^  and  u 
embodied  In  the  present  work. 

During  the  time  this  hook  has  been  passing  through  the  press^  I 
have  seen  from  reviews  thai  two  scholarly  books — "The  Curiosi- 
ties of  Ale "  and  "  Beers  of  the  Bible " — have  appeared  I 
have  carefully  avoided  reading  either  of  them,  fVhen  three  writers 
take  up  a  similar  sulject^  they  must  necessarily  traverse  the  same 
ground  to  a  great  extent ;  and  though  I  might  have  enriched  my 
pages  at  their  expense  by  **  conveyancing  "  I  trust  J  have  avoided 
any  charge^  or  even  suspicion  ^plagiarism. 


PREFACE. 

IME  out  of  mindf  Beer  has  been  the  National  Bever- 
age,  and  its  history,  as  embodied  in  songs  and 
stories,  will  give  a  fair  reflex  of  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  various  periods  at  which  they  were 
written.  I  had  intended  originally  to  have  classified  my  facts 
and  fancies  in  a  very  severe  manner,  after  the  style  of  the  Learned 
Smelfungus  or  Dryasdust,  but  I  found  objections  to  that  plan. 
To  have  made  my  facts  as  bald  as  billiard  balls,  and  have 
arranged  them  in  parallelograms,  would  have  deprived  them  of 
much  of  their  charm.  A  book  like  this  does  not  come  under  the 
hard  and  fast  laws  of  editing,  or  the  strict  canons  of  criticism,  but 
is  rather  like  a  song,  without  beginning  or  ending — a  book  to  be 
taken  up  at  odd  moments,  and  opened  at  any  page,  without 
undue  strain  on  the  reader's  consecutive  attention. 

When  I  write  my  great  work  on  squaring  the  circle,  the 
binominal  theorem,  and  the  hydrostatic  parallax,  I  shall  fit  my 
facts  and  ^ndes  with  mathematical  precision. 

At  the  same  time,  I  do  venture  to  hope  that  the  most  fastidious 
reader  will  find  nothing  to  offend,  but  much  that  may  amuse  and 
perchance  instruct.  I  have,  it  is  true,  had  to  leave  out  very  much 
that  is  excessively  witty  but  too  robust  for  the  present  day. 

As  a  rule,  I  have  carefully  acknowledged  the  sources  of  my 
information  in  the  body  of  the  work.  I  must,  however,  express 
my  deep  sense  of  obligation  to  Notej  and  Queriet^  and  the 
erudite  and  kindly  contributors  to  that  pre-eminently  learned, 
chatty,  and  useful  journal.  Also  to  Mr  Edward  A.  Hardy, 
M. A.  Cantab.,  for  his  scholarly  and  kindly  assistance ;  to  Messrs 
Fred  Whymper,  Frank  Price,  John  Sugg,  and  Robert  Kempt, 
for  many  contributions.      The   courteous  sub-librarian   of  the 


vl  Preface. 

Guildhall  Library  has  laid  me  onder  lastbg  obligatioDS,  as  has 
also  the  late  Mayor  of  Dorchester,  Alfred  Pope,  Esq. 

Last,  but  not  least,  a  tribute  of  thankfulness  from  every  book- 
maker and  reader  at  the  British  Museum  is  due  to  the  officials  of 
that  noble  Institution,  from  the  Head  of  the  Staff  to  the  youngest 
member  thereof.  I  have  been  a  reader  for  many  years^  and  have 
always  received  the  greatest  courtesy  and  assistance  from  all»  and 
this  is  the  more  marked,  inasmuch  as  I  am  scarcely  known,  in- 
dividually, even  by  name  to  any  one  of  them. 

All  the  virtues  of  this  book,  therefore,  do  not  belong  to  me, 
though,  unquestionably,  the  faults  do.  Trusting,  therefore,  that 
the  public  and  my  friends  will — 

*^  Be  to  its  virtues  very  kind, 
And  to  its  faults  a  little  blind," 

I  launch  the  venture  on  the  wave  of  public  opinion  to  sink  or  swim 

on  its  own  merits. 

W.  T.  M. 

Balham,  January  i8.88. 


P.S. — /  began  cotteclmg  maierial  for  the  following  work  years 
ago;  and  In  May  1884  commenced  a  series  of  articles  in  the 
**  Burton  Chronicle.''  This  series  ran  ahout  twelve  months^  and  is 
embodied  in  the  present  work. 

During  the  time  this  book  has  been  passing  through  the  pressy  I 
have  seen  from  reviews  that  two  scholarly  books — "  The  Curiosi- 
ties of  Ale "  and  "  Beers  of  the  Bible  ''—have  appeared  I 
have  carefully  avoided  reading  either  of  them.  When  three  writers 
take  up  a  similar  su^ecty  they  must  necessarily  traverse  the  same 
ground  to  a  great  extent;  and  though  I  might  have  enriched  my 
pages  at  their  expense  by  "conveyancing"  I  trust  J  have  avoided 
any  charge^  or  even  suspicion  of  plagiarism. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEI.   1. 


INTRODUCTORY 


CHAPTEI.  II. 


HISTORY 


PACES 
1-27 


28-60 


CHAPTFR    III. 


CAROLS  AND  WASSAIL  SONGS    . 


.  • 


61-86 


CHAPTER   IV. 
CHURCH  ALES  AND  OBSERVANCES 


.  • 


87-113 


WHITSUN  ALES 


POLITICAL 


CHAPTER   ?. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


"4-134 


135-181 


HARVEST  SONGS 


CHAPTER   VII. 


182-212 


GENERAL  SONGS 


CHAPTER   Vllk 


213-303 


BARLEY  AND  MALT 


CHAPTER   IX. 


304-356 


HOPS 


CHAPTER   Z. 


357-362 


viii  Contefits. 


SCOTCH  ALE  SONGS 363-40O 

OUPTO  ZU. 
LOCAL  AND  DIALECT  SONGS        ....  40I-474 

aurmi  ziii. 

TRADE  SONGS 475-49< 

CHAPTER   KIT. 
OXFORD  SONGS 492-503 

CHAPTER   XT. 
ALE  WIVES 504-513 

CHAPTER  ZTL 
BREWERS 514-540 

CHAPTER   ZYII. 
DRINKING  CLUBS  AND  CUSTOMS  541-566 

CHAPTER  Znil. 
ROYAL  AND  NOBLE  DRINKERS   ....  567-573 

CHAPTER  ZIX. 
BLACK  BEER 574-5^5 

CHAPTER  ZX. 
DRINKING  VESSELS 586-598 

CHAPTER  XZI. 
WARM  ALE 599^13 

CHAPTER  ZZII. 
FACTS,  SCRAPS,  AND  ANA  ....  6 1 4-63  2 


IN   PRAISE   OF   ALE. 


■:o:- 


CHAPTER    I. 

INTRODUCTION. 
**  Mine  hast  was  full  of  ale  and  history. 


» 


**  Therms  many  a  clinking  song  is  made 
In  honour  of  the  Mack  smithes  trade; 
But  more  for  the  brewer  may  be  said^ 
Which  nobody  can  deny,** 


It  it  a  matter  of  surprise  that  no  one  has  hitherto  made  a 
collection  of  the  many  rich,  rare,  and  racy  songs  in  praise 
of  what  certainly  has  been  the  National  Beverage — together 
with  its  constituents,  malt  and  hops — time  out  of  mind,  and 
long  before  the  Christian  era.  Of  merely  Bacchanalian  songs  we 
hare  a  saperabondance ;  but  barley  belongs  to  Ceres  more  than  to 
the  drooken  god  and  his  noisy  satellites, — at  least  so  says  Milton, 
and  he  knew;  Phillips,  another  classical  scholar,  follows  the  same 
idea  m  hit  ^  Cerealia."  Then  let  old  Bacchus  yield  the  prize, 
or  both  divide  the  crown. 

•*  Far  hence  be  Bacchus'  gifts  (the  chief  rejoin'd)  : 
Inflaming  wine,  pernicious  to  mankind, 
Unnerves  the  limbs,  and  dulls  the  noble  mind*" 


2  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

'*  All  the  hinds  bend  low  at  Ceres'  shrine  ; 
Mix  honey  sweet  for  her  with  milk  and  mellow  wine. 
Thrice  lead  the  victim  the  new  fruits  around, 
And  Ceres  call,  and  choral  hymns  resound.'' 

Beer,  however,  in  conjunction  with  mighty  roast  beef,  has  made 
England  what  it  is,  or  rather,  what  it  was  before  the  introduction 
of  **  silent-stills,"  Hambro'  sherry,  prune  wbe,  potato  spirits,  or 
chemically  prepared  ^  fizz,"  which  resembles  the  real  article  as 
**  champagne  Charlie  "  does  a  gentleman. 

Accum  in  his  day  forcibly  pomted  out  the  evils  of  chemically 
prepared  and  doctored  wines : — **  There  is  in  this  city  a  certain 
fraternity  of  chemical  operators  who  work  underground  in  holes, 
caverns,  and  dark  retirements,  to  conceal  their  mysteries  from  the 
eyes  and  observations  of  mankind.  They  can  squeeze  claret  out 
of  the  sloe,  and  draw  champagne  from  an  apple," — would  it  were 
nothing  worse.  Virgil  seems  to  have  had  this  calling  m  his 
mind's  eye  when  he  penned  that  remarkable  prophecy — 

**  Incultisque  rubens  pendebit  sentibus  uva." 

Eclogue  iv.,  29. 
which  Dryden  renders — 

*'  The  ripening  grape  shall  hang  on  every  thorn." 

The  complaint  that  I  now  make  of  the  prevalence  of  inferior 
wines  and  spirits  was  made  long  ago  by  Smollett ;  Squire  Matt 
Bramble  being  his  spokesman : — ^  Well,  there  is  no  nation  that 
drinks  so  hoggishly  as  the  English.  What  passes  for  wine  among 
OS  is  not  the  juice  of  the  grape.  It  is  an  adulterous  mixture, 
brewed  op  of  nauseous  ingredients  by  dunces,  who  are  bunglers  in 
the  art  of  poison-making ;  yet  we  and  our  forefathers  are,  and 
have  been,  poisoned  by  this  cursed  drench  without  taste  or  flavour. 
The  only  genuine  and  wholesome  beverage  in  England  is  London 
porter  and  Dorchester  table  beer ;  but  as  for  your  ale  and  your 
gin,  your  cider  and  your  perry,  and  all  the  trashy  family  of  made 
wines,  I  detest  them  as  infernal  compositions  contrived  for  the 
destruction  of  the  human  species.  But  what  have  I  to  do  with 
the  human  species  \  except  a  very  few  friends,  I  care  not  if  the 


Introduction,  3 

whole  was  ."      It  is,  howeTer,  satisfactory  to  find  that 

Engliih  brewers  generally  maiDtain  their  well-earned  reputation 
abroad  as  well  as  at  home. 

Potsiblyi  says  a  modem  writer,  the  excessive  stolidity  of  the 
German  beer-drinkers  may  arise  from  deleterious  drugs  used  in 
its  composition^  for  we  learn  that  the  Repertoire  de  Pbarmade 
pronounces  it  to  be  coloured  with  sulphobenzazodimethylamin. 
"^  *  is  certainly  a  good  mouthful  to  swallow. 


**  The  glass  enjoy'd  by  reason's  plan 
The  sinking  heart  bears  up  : 
Heaven  gave  the  gift  for  comfort — 
Man  put  poison  m  the  cup.** 

Mr.  Leckyt  in  his  History  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  points 
out  the  evils  which  arose  when  beer,  as  the  national  drink,  was 
partially  discarded : — **  When  the  distilleries  were  first  allowed, 
the  country  passed,  much  to  its  injury,  from  a  beer-drinking  to  a 
gin-drinking  people ;  the  births  fell  off,  and  the  deaths,  especially 
from  dropsy,  greatly  increased.  In  consequence  of  the  excessive 
quantities  of  ardent  q>irits  drank  by  the  English  working-classes  in 
the  reign  of  George  L,  a  duty  of  twenty  shillings  per  gallon  was 
imposed  on  all  spirits." — 9  Geo.  L,  c.  23. 

A  modem  versifier  shows  truly  enough  the  evil  effects  of 
cheap,  and,  inevitably,  nasty  spirits  on  the  poor,  and  the  rich,  too, 
for  that  matter : 

•*  For  the  want  of  a  drop  of  good  beer 
Drives  lots  to  tipples  more  dear. 

And  they  licks  their  wives 

And  destroys  their  lives. 
Which  they  would  not  ha'  done  upon  beer." 

Howell,  writing  about  1620^  stated  that  some  doctors  and 
surgeons,  during  their  attendance  on  an  English  gentleman  who 
was  diseased  at  Paris,  discoursed  on  wines  and  other  beverages ;  and 
one  physician,  who  had  been  in  England,  said  : — **  The  English 
had  a  drink  which  they  called  ale,  and  which  he  thought  the 
wholeaomest  liquor  that  could  be  drank ;  for  whereas  the  body 

A  a 


4  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

of  man  is  supported  by  natural  heat  and  radical  moisture,  there  is 
no  drink  conduceth  more  to  the  preservation  of  the  one  and  the 
increase  of  the  other  than  ale ;  for,  while  the  Englishmen  drank 
only  ale,  they  were  strong,  brawny,  able  men,  and  could  draw  an 
arrow  an  ell  long,  but  when  they  fell  to  wine  and  beer,  they  are 
found  to  be  much  impaired  in  their  strength  and  age."  And  so 
the  ale  bore  away  the  bell  among  the  doctors. 

Another  early  writer  thus  descants  on  the  virtues  of  English 
ale  and  beer : — **^  The  usuall  and  naturall  drink  of  the  country 
is  beer,  so  called  from  the  French  word  haire^  (for  wines  they 
have  not  of  their  own  growing ;)  which,  without  controversie,  is 
a  most  wholesome  and  nourishing  beverage;  and  being  trans- 
ported into  France,  Belgium,  and  Germany,  by  the  working 
of  the  sea  is  so  purged,  that  it  is  amongst  them  in  highest 
estimation,  and  celebrated  by  the  name  of  i^  hmne  Beere  d^Angle^ 
terre.  And  as  for  the  old  drink  of  England,  ale,  which  cometh 
from  the  Danish  word  oela^  it  is  quesdonless  in  itself,  (and 
without  that  commixture  which  some  are  accustomed  to  use  with 
it),  a  very  wholesome  drink." 

The  Quarterly  (vol.  xcvL  p.  485)  stetes: — *«That  the  porter 
and  stout  of  the  Metropolis  have  long  been  ^mous,  the  virtues  of 
the  latter  drink  are  celebrated  all  over  the  world ;  and  a  Roj^al 
Duke,  not  many  years  ago,  ascribed  the  great  mortality  of  the 
Guards  in  the  East  to  the  want  of  their  favourite  beverage." 

There  always  will  be  some  men  of  perverted  tastes  who  prefer 
coarse  spirits  to  wholesome  beer  for  the  sake  of  keeping  up 
appearances.  Such  men  are  only  fit  to  drink  potato  spirits,  d  la 
Punch's  recipe : — 

**  A  pound  of  potatoes  come  peel,  peel  for  me, 

Give  those  who  prefer  it  pure  gin ; 
No  matter  what  sort,  so  poutoes  they  be 

Divested  with  care  of  their  skin. 
For  oh,  when  the  cares  of  the  day  are  gone  by, 

And  a  man  is  disposed  to  grow  frisky, 
A  pound  of  potatoes  at  once  let  him  buy 

To  make  him  a  <  go '  of  good  whisky." 


Introduction.  5 

To  tike  a  still  more  recent  example  fh>m  the  Paris  corre- 
^KNident  of  Truth: — ^'Drankenness  used  not  to  be  a  French 
▼ice;  but  what  with  the  destruction  of  the  ?ines  by  the 
phyUoxera,  the  manufacture  of  brandy  out  of  beet  root  and 
potatoes,  the  beer  devoid  of  malt  and  hops  which  floods  the  caf^, 
and  the  drugged  wine,  the  race  is  going  to  the  dogs  in  the 
townsL 

I  am  conrbced  that  the  evils  of  drunkenness  have  increased 
since  the  fitthion  of  cheap  <*goes"  of  spirits  came  into  general 
vogne  some  years  ago. 

It  is  so  easy  to  order  another  round  when  it  is  ^  only  tuppence 
a  go.''  If  men  would  remember  that  good  ale  is  fiu*  more  whole- 
some and  nutritious  than  cheap  and  necessarily  inferior  qjirits  or 
doctored  wines,  they  would  be  better  in  purse,  person,  and  animal 
spirits  themselves. 

I  would  that  I  could  also  (even  at  the  risk  of  being  stigmatised 
as  an  ^xMtle  of  Beer)  induce  all  brewers  to  concoa  the  genuine 
beverage  and  discard  such  unknown,  compounds  as  hop  or  malt 
sabitttntes.  I  fear  that  many  brewers  have  not  always  been  free 
from  Uame.  They  should  remember  the  dignity  of  dieir  calling, 
as  embodied  in  the  following  ancient  epigram : — 

^Aa  M.  Brewer  Medicum. 

**  This  phrase  to  drink  a  health  is  only  trew 
Of  drink  which  men  of  your  profession  brew.'* 

Of  a  similar  character  also  is  the  following : — 

*^  Such  maltsters  who  ill  measure  give  for  gain, 
Are  not  mere  rogues,  but  also  rogues  in  grain." 

Before  leaving  this  branch  of  the  subject  it  may  be  as  well  to 
inquire  what  beer  is.  Mr.  H.  S.  Carpenter,  F.I.C.,  F.C.S.,  of 
the  Society  of  Public  Analysts,  answers  this  question  compre- 
hensively in  the  following  letter  to  the  Times : — 

''So  much  nonsense  has  recendy  been  written  about  'hop- 
substitutes  '  that  I  am  tempted  to  write  a  few  lines  in  the  hope  of 
clearing  away  some  of  the  fog  that  prevails  on  the  subject 


6  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

^  Pint,  then.  What  it  beer  ?  At  the  preteot  time  it  can  only 
be  defined  aa  *a  fennented  liquid  containing  some  wholesome 
bitter.' 

^It  will  be  seen  that  this  definition  includes  any  form  of 
saccharine  matter,  together  with  suclv  bitters  as  gentian,  quassia, 
calumba,  chiretta,  &c.,  while  such  ingredients  as  picrotoxin,  being 
notoriously  pernicious,  would  be  excluded* 

^The  question  to  be  decided,  it  appears  to  me,  is  whether  it 
is  fiur  to  put  the  brewer  who  uses  honest  malt  and  hops  on  the 
same  level  as  another  who  uses  starch  saccharified  by  acid  and 
'  hop-substitutes/ 

^The  public  should  decide  this  for  themselves  by  insisting  on 
finding  out  from  their  brewer  what  kind  of  a  decoction  he  is 
duj^lying  them  with." 

Sir  Arthur  Bass  (Baron  Burton),  however,  speaking  on  behalf 
of  the  firm  of  which  he  is  the  head,  and  also  for  all  the  Burton 
brewers,  assured  the  French  brewers  that  the  excellence  of  the 
English  beer  was  solely  due  to  the  quality  of  the  malt,  hops,  and 
water,  which  formed  the  sole  ingredients.  If  therefore  I  could 
persuade  the  public  to  revert  back  to  the  National  Beverage, 
instead  of  coarse  fiery  spirit,  I  feel  confident  that  I  shall  have 
done  something  towards  promoting  real  temperance,  and  that  in 
a  natural  and  rational  manner. 

^  I  think  that  some  have  died  of  drought. 
And  some  have  died  of  drinking." 

I  know  for  certain,  however,  that  the  happy  medium  is  the 
golden  rule  of  life.  I  can  and  do  honour  those  who  abstain,  from 
conscience^  sake,  as  an  example  to  their  weaker  brethren ;  but 
I  cannot  look  upon  a  reformed  drunkard  as  the  highest  type  of 
humanity,  though  I  smcerely  respect  the  motives  that  led  to  his 
new  departure. 

I  should  be  sorry  indeed  to  write  anything  that  would  unsettle 
any  man's  moral  or  religious  convictions.  It  is  &r  easier  to  sneer 
at  and  shake  a  man's  faith  than  it  is  to  implant  a  newer  and 
better  one  \  and  the  writer  who  attempts  to  do  the  former  incurs 
a  grave  responsibility.    I  agree  heartily  with  Mr.  G.  A.  Sala, 


Introduction.  7 

wiw  wnNe  from  Australia: — *'I  do  not  believe  in  total  abstinence, 
nattooafly.  I  am  inclined  to  fear  lest  a  total  abstainbg  nation 
•hoald  become  a  gluttonous,  grasping,  selfish,  tyrannical,  morose, 
and  intolerably  conceited  nation ;  but  I  do  believe  in  the  prac- 
ticability of  a  traditionally  hard-drinking  nation — we  have  been 
drinking  bard  for  twelve  hundred  years — growing  gradually  less 
dranken,  and  1  hope  to  have  ere  long  occasion  to  show  that  the 
habits  tend  very  conspicuously  indeed  in  the  direction  of  modera- 
tioo  in  the  use  of  strong  drink." 

^  An'  he  that  scorns  ale  to  his  victual 

Is  welcome  to  let  it  alone ; 
There's  some  can  be  wise  wi'  a  little, 

An'  some  that  are  foolish  wi'  noan  ; 
An'  some  are  so  quare  i'  their  natur', 

That  nought  wi'  their  stomachs  agree, 
But  he  that  would  liefer  drink  wayter 

Shall  never  be  stinted  by  me." 

I  would  allow  every  man  the  fullest  license  to  please  himself ; 
and  this  amount  of  toleration  I  claim  from  the  abstinence  party, 
—every  one  to  his  taste : — 

**  'Tis  sweet  the  nectar  of  the  gods  to  quaff, 
And  very  pleasant  b  the  rosy  wine. 
Refreshing  is  the  taste  of  half-and-half. 

But  of  all  drinks,  cold  water  shall  be  mine." 

Americans  of  the  present  day  are  showing  themselves  to  be 
wiser  than  their  immediate  forerunners,  since  beer  is  rapidly 
repladng  the  fantastic  ^Mrinks"  for  which  the  United  States 
have  earned  a  reputation,  and  is  in  a  fair  way  to  become  their 
national  beverage.  The  quantity  of  beer  now  consumed  is,  in 
proportion  to  the  population,  eleven  times  as  great  as  it  was  forty 
years  ago.  An  author  who  writes  with  authority  from  the 
country,  states  confidently  that  tobacco  is  silently  and 
undermining  the  constitutions  of  more  young  men 
than  liquor. 


8  hi  Praise  of  Ale. 

Water  drinkere  are  not  free  from  danger ;  even  when  imbiUng 
the  so-called  pure  and  limpid  element,  there  are — 

Dangers  : 

*'  And  if  from  man's  vile  arts  I  flee 

And  drink  pure  water  from  the  pump, 

I  gulp  down  infusorige, 

And  quarts  of  raw  bacteriae, 

And  hideous  rotators. 

And  wriggling  polygastricae. 

And  slimy  diatomacese, 

And  hard-shelled  ophryocercinse, 

And  double-barrelled  kolpodz, 

Non-Ioricated  amboedae, 

And  various  animalculae, 

Of  middle,  high  and  low  degree. 
For  Nature  just  beats  all  creation. 
In  multiplied  adulteration." 

On  the  other  hand,  for  those  who  sell  adulterated  beer,  malt, 
or  hops,  no  punishment  can  be  too  great.  In  the  olden  days,  the 
hurdle  and  pillory  swiftly  overtook  the  evil  doers,  and  the  then 
*'  Adulteration  of  Food  and  Drugs  Act "  was  quickly  enforced 
in  a  telling  manner. 

John  Barleycorn.^ 

**  Those  were  the  days  of  old, 
When  Britain's  sons  so  brave  and  bold. 
Their  noble  hearts  to  cheer, 
Could  quaff  John  Barleycorn  tax  free. 
Scorning  Souchong  and  black  Bohea, 
They'd  drink  of  the  bright,  the  home-brew'd  beer — 
There's  nothing  so  good  the  heart  to  cheer. 
No !  ambrosia  fine  'tis  as  good  as  wine, 
Clear,  strong,  and  richer  than  good  Rhine  wine. 
Hurrah !  nothing  like  beer,  like  old  English  beer,  hurrah  ! 


*  Printed  by  permiiMoo  of  Meairt.  Aahdown  Ac  Parry,  Hanover  Square. 
Word!  by  Mr.  W.  Weft. 


Introduction.  9 

What  it  it  that  makes  an  Englishman  brave. 

Sooner  than  q>irit8  that  send  to  the  grave  ? 

Barley  drink  divine ! 

Better  than  all  your  meagre  wine. 

Weakening  stuff  your  poor  thin  wine ; 

Then  fill  up  a  cup  with  hearty  cheer, 

There's  nothing  like  beer  the  heart  to  cheer. 

No !  ambrosia  fine  'tis  good  as  wine, 

Cle^r,  strong,  and  richer  than  good  Rhine  wme. 

Hurrah !  nothing  like  beer,  like  old  English  beer,  hurrah  ! " 

We  hear  a  great  deal  now  of  the  degeneracy  of  the  times, 
the  dnmken  habits  of  workmen,  and  so  on,  as  we  hear,  per  contra, 
of  the  good  old  days  when  George  the  IIT.  was  King,  the 
Augustan  Age,  the  Georgian  Era,  and  the  golden  days  of  Good 
Queen  Bess,  &c.  &c.  Now,  the  golden  age  never  leaves  the 
world ;  it  exists  still,  and  shall  exist  till  love,  health,  poetry,  valour, 
and  patriotism  are  no  more.  The  Victorian  Age  will  shine 
as  br^htly  in  history  as  did  ever  any  epoch  of  oiu-  country.  We 
cannot  always  realise  the  fact,  because  we  are  in  it  and  surrounded 
with  the  mists  and  turmoils  of  the  present,  which  obscure  our 
mental  vision.  We  see  the  evil  which  exists,  but  we  cannot 
fuDy  realise  the  good  One  thing  I  should  like  to  see  revived, 
and  that  is  the  patriarchal  relationship  which  formerly  existed 
between  masters  and  men.  Those  were  the  times  when  both 
partiefl  had  bonds  and  sympathies  in  common  ;  and  these  mutual 
feelings  existed  almost  to  the  present  day,  ere  political  economy 
set  class  against  class,  and  severed  the  connection.  The  poor 
and  rich,  or  rather  the  yeoman  class,  had  their  work  and  pleasures 
in  common.     Scott  puts  it: — 

^  A  Christmas  gambol  oft  would  cheer. 
The  poor  man's  heart  through  half  the  year; " 

but  these  reunions  occurred  much  more  frequently.  There  were 
Whitsun  Ales,  Sheep-Shearings,  Hay  Harvest,  Harvest  Home, 
Michaelmas,  and  other  periodical  rejoicings  that  lightened  the 
labours  of  the  poor.  The  writings  of  Tusser  and  Herrick 
abundantly  prove  this,  and  show  how  the  enjoyments  at  different 


lo  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

seasons  were  ceJebrated.  On  the  other  hand,  the  masters  did 
not  shirk  their  share  of  hard  work ;  they  took  their  **  nuncheons  " 
and  ^nammits"  in  common;  and  the  mutual  sympathy  thus 
evolved,  brought  both  classes  closely  together. 

**  They  did  not  ride  Blood  horses  as  varmers*  wives  do  now, 
The  daughters  went  a  milken,  and  the  sons  went  out  to  plough. 
Such  as  I  have  heard  my  parents  say  was  ninety  yeara  ago." 

Reelecting  the  subject  of  feasts,  fairs,  mops,  ales,  and  amuse- 
ments of  the  poor  of  a  by-gone  age.  In  the  olden  days  these 
festivals  had  a  religious  element,  and  the  reverence  attached 
thereto  kept  their  wakes  and  feasts  pure.  In  latter  times  the 
reverence  became  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  license  or  unlicense 
succeeded  harmless  enjoyment  and  innocent  fun. 

^  Ye  church-ales  and  ye  morrises 

With  hobby-horse  advancing. 
Ye  round  games  with  fine  Jim  and  Sis 

About  the  May-pole  dancing, 
Ye  nimble  joints,  that  with  red  points 

And  ribbons  deck  the  bridal. 
Lock  up  your  pumps,  and  rest  your  stumps. 

For  yon  are  now  down  cried  all." 

^  We  hundreders  of  Nibley  "  (in  the  Cotswold  district),  says 
old  John  Smith,  whose  writings  are  preserved  in  the  Berkeley 
manuscripts — ^  We  hundreders,"  and  he  was  proud  of  the  term, 
^are  di^iosed  to  look  on  the  cheerful  side  of  things,  and  to 
countenance  the  hilarity  of  wakes  and  &ir8  and  village  festivals  in 
opposition  to  Puritan  dislike  of  these  popular  customs."  The 
custom  of  Cowley  Pike,  an  eminence  in  his  neighbourhood,  was 
pleasant  to  him,  ^  where  to  behold  younge  men  and  maids 
ascendinge  and  descencfinge  and  boies  tumbling  down,  especially 
on  communion  dais  in  the  aftemoones  what  times  the  resort  is 
greatest,  bringeth  no  small  delight  to  many  of  the  elder  soit,  also 
delightmge  therein." 

Mr.  Tom  Hugfies  has  liit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  in  his 
inimitaUe  work,  ^  Tom  Brown's  Schooldays."    I  prefer  to  quote 


Introduction.  1 1 

hit  words  rather  than  my  own,  though  I  know  the  district  to 
which  he  refers,  and  can  heartily  endorse  every  word  he  has 
wntten.  Speaking  of  the  annual  "veast"  and  hiring,  or  «  Statty" 
fairs  m  the  Vale  of  the  Whitehorse  as  held  some  forty  years  since : 
*^  They  are  much  altered  for  the  worse,  I  am  told.  I  haven't 
been  at  one  these  twenty  years,  but  I  have  been  at  the  statute  Burs 
m  some  west-country  towns,  where  servants  are  hired;  and  greater 
abominations  cannot  be  found.  What  village  feasts  have  come 
to^  I  fear,  in  many  cases,  may  be  read  in  the  pages  of  Teast 
(though  I  never  saw  one  so  bad — thank  God  !)  Do  you  want 
to  know  why  ?  It  is  because,  as  I  said  before,  gentlefolk  and 
fiumers  have  left  off  joining  or  taking  an  interest  in  them.  They 
don't  either  subscribe  to  the  prizes,  or  go  down  and  enjoy  the 
fim.  Is  this  a  good  or  a  bad  sign  ?  I  hardly  know.  Bad, 
sure  enough,  if  it  only  arises  ^m  the  further  separation  of  classes 
consequent  on  twenty  years  of  buying  cheap  and  selling  dear,  and 
its  accompanjring  over-woric ;  or  because  our  sons  and  daughters 
have  their  hearts  in  London  club-life,  or  so-called  society, 
instead  of  in  the  old  English  home  duties ;  because  farmers'  sons 
are  apbg  fine  gentlemen,  and  farmers'  daughters  caring  more  to 
make  bad  foreign  music  than  good  English  cheeses.  Good, 
perhaps,  if  it  be  that  the  time  for  the  old  *  veast '  has  gone  by, 
that  it  is  no  longer  the  healthy,  sound  expression  of  English 
country  holiday-making ;  that,  in  &ct,  we  as  a  nation  have  got 
beyond  it,  and  are  in  a  transition  state,  feeling  for  and  soon  likely 
to  find  some  better  substitute.  Only  I  have  just  got  this  to  say 
before  I  quit  the  text  Don't  let  reformers  of  any  sort  think 
that  they  are  going  really  to  lay  hold  of  the  working  boys  and 
young  men  of  England  by  any  educational  grapnel  whatever, 
which  hasn't  some  bona  JuU  equivalent  for  the  games  of  the  old 
country  *  veast '  in  it ;  something  to  put  in  die  place  of  the 
back-swording,  and  wrestling,  and  racing ;  something  to  try  the 
muscles  of  men's  bodies,  and  the  endurance  of  their  hearts,  to 
make  them  rejoice  in  their  strength.  In  all  the  new-fangled 
comprehensive  plans  which  I  see,  this  is  all  left  out;  and  the 
consequence  is  that  your  great  Mechanics'  Institutes  end  in 
intellectual  priggism,  and  your  Christian  Young  Men's  Societies 


12  In  Praise  cf  Ale. 

in  religious  PharisaisixL  WeU,  well,  we  must  bide  our  time. 
Life  isn't  all  beer  and  skittles — but  beer  and  skittles,  or  some- 
thing better  of  the  same  sort,  must  form  a  good  part  of  every 
Englishman's  education.  If  I  could  only  drive  this  into  the  heads 
of  you  rising  parliamentary  lords,  and  young  swells  who  '  have 
your  ways  made  for  you,'  as  the  saying  is — ^you,  who  frequent 
palaver  houses  and  West  End  clubs,  waiting  always  ready  to 
strap  yourselves  on  to  the  back  of  poor  dear  old  John,  as  soon  as 
the  present  used-up  lot  (your  fathers  and  uncles),  who  sit  there 
on  the  great  parliamentary-majorities'  pack-saddle  and  make 
believe  the3r're  guiding  him  with  their  red-tape  bridle,  tumble,  or 
have  to  be  lifted  off!" 

Then,  again,  the  speech  of  young  Brook,  the  cock  of  the 
school,  to  the  boys,  is  one  which  older  men,  and  especially  youths, 
would  do  well  to  lay  to  heart : — 

'*  Bullies  are  cowards,  and  one  coward  makes  many ;  so  good- 
bye to  the  school-house  match  if  bullying  gets  ahead  here — (loud 
applause  from  the  snoall  boys).  Then  there's  fuddling  about  in 
the  public-houses,  and  drinking  bad  spirits,  and  punch,  and  such 
rot-gut  stufE  That  won't  make  good  drop-kicks  or  chai^rs  of 
you,  take  my  word  for  it.  You  get  plenty  of  good  beer  here, 
and  that's  enough  for  you;  and  drinking  isn't  fine  or  manly, 
whatever  some  of  you  may  think  of  it." 

Bravo,  Mr.  Tom  Hughes !  Those  lines  were  written  before 
the  civilisation  oi  the  19th  century  had  evolved  ^the  smart 
youth,"  "the  pushing  young  man,"  the  "cutting  tradesman," 
"the  infant  Stockbroker,"  and  other  by-products  of  gin  and 
bitters,  "Hambro*  sherry,"  "prune  wine,"  and  such-like  elements 
of  demoralisation. 

The  difference  between  the  old  and  the  new  style  of  treatment 
are  well  expressed  in  the  2nd  verse  of  the  following  song : — 

Thb  Roast  Beef  of  Old  England. 

Leveridge. 

"  When  mighty  roast  beef  was  the  Englishman's  food. 
It  ennobled  our  hearts  and  enriched  our  blood. 
Our  soldiers  were  brave  and  our  courders  were  good. 


Introduction,  1 3 

O  !  the  roast  beef  of  old  EDgland ! 
And  O  !  for  old  England's  roast  beef  I 

^  Out  fathers  of  old  were  robust,  stout,  and  strong, 

And  kept  open  house,  with  good  cheer  all  day  long, 
Which  made  Uieir  plump  tenants  rejoice  in  this  song — 
O  !  the  roast  beef  of  old  England  ! 
And  O I  for  old  England's  roast  beef ! 

**  When  good  Queen  Elizabeth  sat  on  the  throne. 
Ere  cofiee,  or  tea,  or  such  slip-slops  were  known. 
The  world  was  in  terror  if  e'er  she  did  frown. 
O  !  the  roast  beef  of  old  England ! 
And  O !  for  old  England's  roast  beef!  " 


Possibly  there  has  been  too  much  dragooning  and  lecturing 
the  poor,  too  much  **  organising  "  of  their  pleasures  and  charities, 
and  above  all,  utilising  them  for  political  purposes ;  and  the  real 
bond  of  union  between  master  and  man  has  become  weakened,  if 
not  severed  entirely.  The  whole-hearted  Christian  and  witty 
Canon  of  St  Paul's  foresaw  this  when  he  penned  these  lines  : — 

M  What  shall  the  poor  drink  ?  How  shall  they  drink  it — in 
pint  cups  or  quart  mugs — hot  or  cold — ^in  the  morning  or  the 
evening.  Whether  the  Three  Pigeons  shall  be  shut  up,  and  the 
Shoulder  of  Mutton  be  opened.  Whether  the  Black  Horse  shall 
continue  to  swing  in  the  air,  or  the  White  Horse,  with  animated 
crest  and  tail,  no  longer  portend  spirits  within.  All  these  great 
questions  depend  upon  little  clumps  of  squires  and  parsons  gathered 
together  m  alehouses  in  the  month  of  September — so  portentous 
to  publicans  and  partridges,  to  sots  and  sportsmen,  to  guzzling  and 
game.  There  are  two  alehouses  in  the  village,  the  Red  Horse 
and  the  Dun  Cow.  Is  it  common  sense  to  suppose  that  these  two 
publicans  are  not  desirous  of  gaining  customers  from  each  other  ? 
— and  that  the  means  they  take  are  not  precisely  the  same  as  those 
of  important  inns — by  procuring  good  articles,  and  retailing  them 
with  civility  and  attention.  We  really  do  not  mean  to.  accuse 
English  magistrates  of  ill-nature,  for  in  general  there  is  a  good 
deal  of  kindness  and  consideration  among  them,  but  they  do  not 


14  Jn  Praise  of  Ale, 

drink  ale,  aod  are  apt  to  forget  the  importance  of  ale  to  the  common 
people.  When  wine-drinkers  regulate  the  liquor  and  comfort  of 
ale-drinkers,  it  is  much  as  if  camivoroos  animals  should  regulate 
the  food  of  graminivorous  animals — as  if  a  lion  should  cater  for 
an  oxy  or  a  coach-horae  order  dinner  for  a  leopard.  There  is  no 
natural  capacity  or  incitement  to  do  the  thing  well — no  power  in 
the  Hon  to  distinguish  between  clover  and  cow  thistles — ^no  dis- 
position in  the  coach-horse  to  discriminate  between  the  succulence 
of  a  young  kid  and  the  distressing  dryness  of  a  superannuated  cow. 
The  want  of  sympathy  is  a  source  of  inattention  and  a  cause  of 
eviL  The  immense  importance  of  a  pint  of  ale  to  a  conmion 
person  should  never  be  overlooked ;  nor  should  a  good-natured 
justice  forget  that  he  is  acting  for  Liliputians,  whose  pains  and 
pleasures  lie  m  a  very  narrow  compass,  and  are  but  too  apt  to  be 
treated  with  contempt  and  neglect  by  their  superiors.  Public- 
houses  are  not  only  the  inns  of  the  travelling  poor,  but  they  are 
the  cellars  and  parlours  of  the  stationary  poor.  A  gentleman  has 
his  own  public-house,  locked  up  in  a  square  brick  bin :  London 
Particular — Chalier  1802 — Carbonell  1803 — Sir  John's  freieni 
of  Hock  at  ny  marriage  ;  bought  at  the  Duk^t  tale — East  India 
Madeira — Lc^te — Noyau — Maraschino.  Such  are  the  domestic 
resources  of  him  who  is  to  regulate  the  potations  of  the  labourer. 
And  away  goes  this  subterraneous  Bacchanalian,  greedy  of  the 
grape,  with  his  feet  wrapped  up  in  flannel,  to  increase,  on  the 
licensbg  day,  the  difficulties  of  obtaining  a  pot  of  beer  to  the 
lower  orders  of  mankind! — and  believes,  as  all  men  do  when 
they  are  deciding  upon  other  persons'  pleasures,  that  he  is  actuated 
by  the  highest  sense  of  duty,  and  the  deepest  consideration  for  the 
wel£uie  of  the  lower  orders.  In  an  advanced  state  of  civilisation, 
there  must  be  always  an  advanced  state  of  misery.  In  the  low 
public-houses  of  great  cities  very  wretched  and  very  criminal 
persons  are  huddled  together  in  great  masses.  But  is  a  man  to 
die  supperless  in  a  ditch  because  he  is  not  rich,  or  even  because  he 
is  not  innocent  ?  A  pauper  felon  is  not  to  be  driven  into  despair 
and  turned  into  a  wild  beast.  Such  men  must  be,  and  such  men 
must  eat  and  sleep,  and  if  laws  are  wise  and  police  vigilant  we  do 
not  conceive  it  to  be  any  evil  that  the  haunts  of  such  men  are 


Introduction.  1 5 

knowOy  and  in  some  degree  subject  to  inspectioii.  What  is  meant 
by  respectable  public-bouses  are  houses  where  ail  the  customers  are 
rich  and  opulent.  But  who  will  take  in  the  refuse  of  mankind,  if 
monopoly  allows  him  to  choose  better  customers  ?  There  is  no 
end  to  this  mischievous  meddling  with  the  natural  arrangements  of 
society.  It  would  be  just  as  wise  to  set  magistrates  to  digest 
for  mankind,  as  to  fix  for  them  in  what  proportion  any 
particular  wants  of  their  class  shall  be  supplied.  But  there 
are  excellent  men  who  would  place  the  moon  under  the  care  of 
magistrates^  in  order  to  improve  travelling,  and  make  things  safe 
and  comfortable." 

William  King  puts  the  foregoing  in  a  neat  epigram  : — 

^  Where  love  of  wealth  and  rusty  coin  prevail. 
What  hopes  of  sugar'd  cakes  or  nut-brown  ale." 

Respecting  the  future  consumption  of  the  National  Beverage, 
a  writer  in  a  well-informed  Trade  Journal  remarks,  that : — 

M  There  are  some  people  in  the  ranks  of  the  various  self-styled 
Temperance  Societies  and  Associations,  who  are  so  sanguine  as 
to  believe,  or  so  foolhardy  as  to  express  the  belief,  that  in  some 
not  very  distant  future  the  practice  of  beer-drinking  in  England 
will  give  way  to  the  practice  of  water-drinking,  or,  at  all  events, 
that  what  they  admit  b  now  the  National  Beverage  will  some 
day  be  superseded,  by  one  or  other  of  the  numerous  deleterious 
concoctions,  aerated  and  otherwise,  which  are  now  offered  for 
sale  at  the  cofiee  < palaces'  and  other  teetotal  establishments. 
They  profess  to  found  their  hope  upon  the  undoubted  ^ling  off, 
during  the  first  portion  of  the  present  year,  in  the  consumption  of 
beer,  as  proved  by  the  Excise  statistics.  But  an  examination  of 
these  statistics  will  not,  we  think,  lead  an  impartial  observer  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  brewing  trade,  if  left  to  itself,  will  cease 
to  be  a  profitable  investment,  or  that  Englishmen  and  women  are 
prepared  to  abandon  the  wholesome  stimulant  at  the  dictation  of 
those  who,  somewhat  late  in  the  day,  have  made  the  astounding 
discovery,  that  the  beverage  upon  which  our  forefathers  feasted 
and  throve  for  centuries,  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  deadly 
poison." 


1 6  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

This  coiuamiiiation  will  occur  when  the  following  ^  News  " 
is  confirmed.  These  news  items  were  retailed  in  1660,  and 
appear  in  Ritson's  collection^  and  are  a  £dr  q>ecimen  of  the  then 
humorous  style. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  if  you  will  hear, 
Strange  news  as  I  will  tell  to  you, 
Wherever  you  go,  both  far  and  near, 
You  may  boldly  say  that  this  is  true. 

'*  When  Charing  Cross  was  a  pretty  little  boy, 
He  was  sent  to  Roroford  to  sell  swine  \ 
His  mother  made  a  cheese  and  he  drunk  up  the  whey, 
For  he  never  lov'd  strong  beer,  ale,  nor  wine. 

^  When  all  the  thieves  in  England  died. 
That  very  year  fell  such  a  chance. 
That  Salisbury  Plain  would  on  horseback  ride, 
And  Paris-Gardens  carry  the  news  to  France. 

**  When  all  the  lawyers  they  did  plead. 
All  for  love  and  not  for  gain. 
Then  'twas  a  jovial  world  indeed ; 
The  Blue  Boar  of  Dover  fetch'd  apples  out  of  Spam. 

**  When  landlords  they  did  let  their  farms 
Cheap,  because  their  tenants  paid  dear  ; 
The  weather-cock  of  Paul's  turned  his  tail  to  the  wind. 
And  tinkers  they  left  strong  ale  and  beer. 

^  When  misers  all  were  grieved  in  mind 
Because  that  com  was  grown  so  dear, 
The  man  in  the  moon  made  Christmas  pyes. 
And  bid  the  seven  stars  to  eat  good  cheer. 

^  But  without  a  broker  or  coney  catcher, 
Paul's  Churchyard  was  never  free ; 
Then  was  my  Lord  Mayor  become  a  house-thatcher, 
Which  was  a  wondrous  sight  to  see. 


Introduction.  1 7 

**  When  Bazing-Stooe  did  swim  t^n  Thames^ 
And  twore  all  thieves  to  be  just  and  true. 
The  sumnore  and  bailiffs  were  honest  men. 
And  pease  and  bacon  that  year  it  snew. 

^  When  every  man  had  a  quiet  wife. 

That  never  would  once  scold  or  chide, 
Tom-Tinker  of  Turvey,  to  end  all  strife. 
Roasted  a  pig  in  a  Uew  cowes  hide.'' 

Those  people  who  seek  to  lead  the  fashion  by  aping  Royalty 
in  dress,  drinking,  and  eating,  would  do  well  to  remember  that 
good  ale  was  erstwhile  the  staple  beverage  at  royal  and  noble 
banquets,  long  before  Autolycus  gave  currency  to  a  then  old 
proverb,—— 

^  A  quart  of  ale  is  a  dish  for  a  king ; " 

and  it  was  certainly  a  dish  for  a  queen  too,  in  the  time  of 
Elizabeth,  when  she  and  her  maids  of  honour  had  one  quart 
each  as  their  breakfast  allowance ;  and  at  what  period  of  our 
history  did  fairer  women  or  braver  men  exist?  From  the 
time  of  King  Arthur  downwards,  history  has  recorded  the 
names  of  kings  who  fought  well  and  governed  wisely,  and 
yet  loved  their  jolly  good  ale  and  old.  King  John  is  said  to 
have  died  of  a  surfeit  of  new  ale  and  peaches;  but  then  he 
drank  not  wisely,  but  too  well.  Sir  John  Barleycorn  was  the 
strongest  knight  m  the  lists  ;  and  the  solitude  of  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots  was  solaced  by  a  barrel  of  Burton,  which  was  always 
kept  on  tap.  In  our  own  time  we  have  the  memory  of  that 
historic  glass  of  bitter,  which  that  beau  ideal  of  an  English  gentle- 
man, the  Prince  of  Wales,  called  for,  and  which  formed  the  turning- 
point  of  his  long  and  dangerous  illness.  Whereupon  the  mighty 
heart  of  the  nation  beat  with  an  exceeding  great  joy. 

Drummond  of  Hawthomden  cared  not  who  made  the  laws 
so  long  as  his  wise  friend  had  a  hand  in  the  ballads,  when 
the  nation  would  be  governed  rightly.  I  know  not  whether 
Drummond  drew  the  long  bow  or  not,  but  I  know  that  a 
collection  of  the  songs  of  a  country  give  complete  and  truthful 

B 


1 8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

pictoret  of  the  various  times  in  which  they  were  written,  and 
reflect  the  habits,  manners,  and  modes  of  thought,  then  prevailing, 
and  so  form  the  true  basis  of  history ;  and  such  a  collection  I 
have  endeavoured  to  bring  together.  To  quote  the  learned  and 
accomplished  Mr.  Ebsworth,  editor  of  the  Bagshaw,  and  other 
collections  of  ballads — 

**  He  who  would  trace  the  ages  pass'd  away, 
And  see  old  English  homesteads  round  him  rise, 
Fill'd  with  the  men  and  women  of  their  day. 
Must  list  these  echoes  of  their  melodies." 

As  Drake  very  properly  says  of  ballads  in  his  ^  Life  and  Times 
of  Shakespeare," — "  If  some  little  prejudice  in  favour  of  these 
compoations  be  given  by  the  association  in  our  ideas  of  their 
antiquity,  if  we  connect  some  reviviscence  and  some  increased 
force  with  expressions  which  were  in  favourite  use  with  those  who 
for  two  centuries  have  slept  in  the  grave,  the  profound  moral 
philosopher  will  neither  blame  nor  regret  this  efiect.  It  is  among 
the  oMMt  generous  and  most  ornamental,  if  not  among  the  most  * 
useful,  habits  of  the  mind." 

Fielding  and  Smollett  were  both  lovers  of  good  beer,  for,  as  a 
modem  writer  points  out,  beer  overflows  in  almost  every  volume. 
There  never  was  a  hero  who  had  a  more  healthy  relish  for  a  cool 
tankard  than  Tom  Jones.  There  is  an  incident  which  all  will 
recollect  in  the  story  of  Booth's  Amelia,  that  positively  elevates 
brown  stout  into  the  region  of  the  pathetic.  As  for  Smollett,  the 
score  which  Roderick  Random  and  Strap  ran  up  with  the 
plausible  old  schoolmaster,  &ncying  all  the  while  he  is  teaching 
them,  IS,  perhaps,  too  rural  an  incident  for  our  present  purpose ; 
but  the  pot  of  beer  with  which  Strap  made  up  the  quarrel  with 
the  soldier,  after  the  misadventure  which  attended  his  first  attempt 
to  dive  for  a  dinner,  was  of  genuine  London  brewing. 

I  take  it  that  the  first  songs  in  praise  of  ale  and  the  customs 
associated  therewith  were  the  early  Christmas  carols.  This  was 
only  following  a  natural  sequence.  The  Christian's  feasts  and 
rejoicings  came  at  the  same  periods  as  did  the  heathen  celebrations, 
and  as  the  Basilica  came  to  be  transformed  into  a  Christian  place 


Introduction.  1 9 

of  wonhip,  and  the  recogniaed  form  of  charch  architecture,  so 
the  heathen  obsenrances  became  purified  and  sanctified  to  a  higher 
form  of  worship,  whilst  still  engrafted  on  old  observances.  To 
show  the  vitality  of  such  customs,  I  have  many  a  time  seen 
countrymen,  befoie  quaffing  of  the  tankards  themselves,  pour  a 
modicum  of  liquor  on  the  floor  or  the  ground  *^for  luck." 
They  would  have  been  probably  surprised  to  learn  that  they  were 
perpetuating  the  worship  of  mother  earth  by  pouring  out  her  due 
fibadon. 

Of  the  carols  which  will  appear  in  due  place,  the  phrase  nowell, 
oowell,  is  of  frequent  occurrence.  The  learned  Mr.  Hunt,  in 
his  drolls  or  legends  of  the  fairies  of  Cornwall,  defines  this  greeting 
to  be  a  corruption  of  the  words,  *'Now  well,  now  well,"  as  being 
the  words  used  by  the  angel  in  announcing  the  Nativity — 

**  Now  well !  Now,  well !  the  angel  did  say, 
To  certain  poor  shepherds  who  in  the  fields  did  lay.'' 

In  the  Percy  Society's  publications,  this  greeting,  transcribed 
from  the  Sloane  MSS.,  reads : — 

"  Nowell-el-el-el-el-el-el-el-el-el-el,  Mary  was  gret  with 
GabricL" 

These  words  certainly  do  not  appear  in  the  authorised  version 
of  the  first  Christmas  carol,  the  grandest  pxan  in  this  or  any 
other  language  under  the  sun,  *'  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest — 
on  earth  peace,  good  will  towards  men/' 

The  later  carol  writers  lost  this  sublimity  of  thought  and  gran- 
deur of  language,  and  became  what  to  our  minds  is  somewhat 
profane,  in  their  treatment  of  the  carol — 

"  Bring  us  in  good  ale,  bring  us  in  good  ale. 
And  for  our  blessM  Lady's  sake,  bring  us  in  good  ale." 

This  was  the  burden  of  some  of  these  carols ;  but  we  must  not 
judge  either  the  writers  or  the  singers  by  the  modem  standard  of 
uste  or  the  canons  of  criticism.  They  did  the  best  according  to 
their  lights.  Whilst  on  the  subject  of  religious  observances,  I 
cannot  refrain  from  making  the  following  extract  of  an  article 

B  2 


20  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

which  appeared  in  the  Mormng  Advertucr^  May  14,  1885,  from 
the  pen  of  a  weU-mformed  writer : — 

*^The  trace  of  brutality  which  hangs  about  so  many  of  our 
English  practices  finds  unpleasant  expression  in  this  matter. 
Originally  this  custom  was  a  graceful  and  almost  poetical  one. 
It  began  in  the  early  days  of  Greece  as  a  festival  in  honour  of 
springy  when  processions  were  formed,  and  rhythmic  hymns 
chanted  as  a  species  of  recognition  of  the  unseen  powers — '  the 
unknown  gods '  of  St,  Paul — who  presided  over  the  growing  crops 
and  sprouting  vines  and  olives.  From  Greece  it  .passed  to  Rome, 
idiere  the  Ambarvalia,  or  festival  in  honour  of  Ceres,  became 
mixed  up  with  the  Terminalia,  or  feasts  of  Terminus,  the  pro- 
tecting divinity  of  boundaries  and  landmarks.  In  Rome  the 
celebration  of  these  festivities  was  always  in  February,  but  when 
they  were  removed  to  Britain  the  colder  climate  and  later  seasons 
made  it  expedient  that  they  should  be  postponed  to  May.  When 
in  course  of  time  England  became  Christian,  the  churchmen  very 
wisely  refused  to  abolish  the  pretty  custom,  and  so  at  a  very  early 
period  indeed  the  feasts  of  Ceres  and  Terminus  were  replaced 
by  what  our  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors  (with  apologies  to  Mr. 
Freeman  for  the  use  of  so  heterodox  a  word)  called  'Gange 
days/  during  which  the  clergy  and  people  perambulated  the  parishes 
and  laid  down  the  limits  of  their  respective  territories.  As  the 
church  grew  stronger  more  was  made  of  this  season.  The  Sunday 
before  Ascension  Day  was  called  Rogation  Sunday,  and  the  three 
days  intervening  Rogation  Days.  Before  the  Reformation  it  was 
usual  for  the  greater  part  of  the  populations  of  the  various  parishes 
to  walk  in  procession  with  cross  and  banner  from  one  to  another 
of  the  wayside  crosses  which  were  set  up  partly  as  landnuu'ks  and 
pardy  as  objects  of  devotion.  On  their  way  they  would  sing 
litanies,  and  at  each  cross  there  would  be  special  prayers  and 
sermons  on  the  duty  of  thankfulness  for  the  kindly  fruits  of  the 
earth.  The  104th  Psalm  was  chanted  to  the  ancient  plain  song, 
and  at  each  station  the  curate  repeated  the  comminatory  clause, 
<  Cursed  be  he  who  translated!  the  bounds  and  doles  of  his  neigh- 
bour,' or  as  it  stands  in  the  Conmiination  Service,  '  Cursed  be  he 
that  removeth  his  neighbour's  landmark.'    At  the  Reformation 


Introduction.  2 1 

the  whole  prooeediiig  lo8t  much  of  its  ivligious  character,  and 
though  it  was  some  time  before  the  English  people  quite  made 
i^  their  minds  to  accept  the  unlovely  yoke  of  German  Protestant- 
ism, the  change  came  eventually,  so  that  in  the  1 7th  century  the 
processioos  which  had  formerly  been  universal  during  the  three 
Rogation  Days  and  on  Ascension  Day,  and  had  always  had  more 
or  less  of  a  religious  character,  became  strictly  official,  and  were 
confined  to  Thursday  only.  The  old  names  of  the  week  were 
lost  at  the  same  time.  Here  and  there  in  remote  country  districts 
old  people  may  be  found  who  speak  of  the  week  as  *  Rogadng 
(rogation)  week,'  firom  the  fact  of  the  Rogation  Days  occurring 
in  its  course;  as  < Cross  week,'  because  the  cross  used  to  lead 
the  processions ;  or  as  '  Grass  week,'  because  when  the  Rogation 
Days  were  treated  as  fasts  vegetable  food  was  generally  consumed. 
It  does  not  seem,  however,  that  there  was  anything  much  more 
terrible  in  the  fastings  of  this  week  than  in  those  of  Lent  as  com- 
memorated by  Mr.  Pepys  and,  of  all  people.  Sir  Thomas  More. 
Says  the  latter — <Some  wax  drunk  m  Lent  of  wygges  and 
cracknels,'  which  is  explained  as  meaning  that  the  ^wygge,'  a 
bun  of  the  period,  usually  served  as  the  *  shoeing-hom '  for  one 
or  two  cups  of  ale.  '  Home,'  writes  Pepys  again  on  April  8, 
1 664,  '  to  the  only  Lenten  supper  I  have  had  of  wiggs  and  ale.' 
The  perambulations  were  naturally  provocative  of  both  hunger 
and  thirst,  and  it  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  to  find  that  such 
wants  were  supplied  by  endowments.  Some  of  them  are  curious 
enough.  Thus  at  Edgcott,  in  Buckinghamshire,  there  is  an  acre 
of  land  which  bears  the  name  of  *  Gang  Monday  land ' — the 
name  alone  shows  the  extreme  antiquity  of  the  endowment — 
which  is  let  for  ^3  a  year  in  order  to  supply  the  processionists  of 
this  week  with  beer  and  bread.  This  endowment  has,  however, 
we  believe,  been  swallowed  up  for  educational  purposes.  At 
Clifton  Reynes,  in  the  same  county,  the  processionists  are  refreshed 
with  '  a  small  loaf  and  a  piece  of  cheese  and  a  pint  of  ale  to  every 
married  man,  and  half  a  pint  to  every  unmarried.'  At  Hurst- 
bourne  Crawley,  in  Bedfordshire,  a  very  small  *  esute ' — a  comer 
of  land,  that  is  to  say — ^produces  jQ^  in  seven  years,  which  is 
spent  in  food  and  drink  for  the  processionists.     A  still  quainter 


22  In  Praise  <f  Ale. 

custom  preraiJs  in  some  of  the  churches  of  the  City  of  London — 
unless  the  Charity  Commissioners  have  seized  upon  these  small 
endowments  for  educational  purposes.  In  these  churches  various 
small  doles  are  given,  the  oddest  being  that  of  St  Magnus  the 
Martyr,  where  the  churchwardens  annually  present  the  clergy  on 
their  return  to  the  vestry  from  < beating  the  bounds'  with 
*  ribbons,  cakes,  and  silk  suy-laces.' " 

When  first  I  took  my  pen  in  hand  thus  for  to  write,  I  did  not 
understand  how  intimately  beer  and  beer-drinking  customs  have 
been  associated  with  the  inner  religious  and  domestic  life  of  the 
nation  from  times  whereof  the  memory  of  man  goeth  not  to 
the  contrary.  Taking  the  carols  as  the  first  class  of  the  songs, 
or  beer  ballads,  there  is  a  goodly  collection ;  their  annual  recur- 
rence and  their  religious  or  semi-religious  character  would  naturally 
lead  to  thnr  preservation  by  the  Monkish  chroniclers  and  scribes. 
Of  the  more  jocund  or  profane  class,  many  of  these  are  and  have 
no  doubt  been  as  hopelessly  lost  as  is  the  memory  of  their  authors, 
the  minstrels  and  jongeliers  who  composed  and  gave  them 
currency ;  whilst  oUiers,  more  fortunate,  have  floated  down  the 
stream  of  time  on  tradition  ttntil  the  art  of  printing  became 
popular,  and  rescued  them  from  oblivion.  And  who  wrote  all 
these  chief  treasures  of  a  song-loving  nation  ?  No  one 
knows,  or  ever  will  know ;  and  their  words  no  one  ever  will 
forget  until  there  is  no  more  poetry  left  in  men's  hearts,  no  more 
memory  left  in  their  minds  for  great  deeds  and  great  words. 
Commencing  about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  we  have 
a  rich  and  varied  choice  of  song  and  ballad.  During  the  Pro- 
tectorate, and  especially  afterwards  at  the  Restoration,  political 
rancour  ran  high  and  found  expression  in  popular  song.  Some 
of  the  songs  at  this  time  were  unusually  full  flavoured ;  Cromwell 
had  gone  down  and  the  king's  head  had  gone  up,  especially  in 
the  way  of  tavern  ngns,  when  loyalty,  strong  drink,  and 
sports  were  synonomous.  The  mughouse  and  political  clubs 
perpetuated  this 'feeling  as  did  the  songs  of  the  Jacolntes  and 
Anti-Jacobites.  The  sentiments  that  prevailed  \m  town  were 
transmitted  to  the  country  by  travelling  musicians,  who  were 
newsmen  of  their  respective  periods. 


Introduction.  23 

From  the  early  tunes,  and,  well,  almost  to  the  present,  the 
political  influence  of  a  pot  of  beer  as  a  political  persuader  was 
unequalled,  except  by  the  opposing  power  of  a  rotten  egg,  which 
has  nipped  many  a  brilliant  oration  in  the  bud.  Of  course  we 
are  much  above  those  pro  and  con  arguments  at  present,  and 
county  elections  are  very  diflerent  firom  what  they  were  in  the 


**  When  the  Duke's  grandson  for  the  county  stood, 
His  beef  was  prime  and  his  October  good." 

The  irritation  which  the  monetary  and  fiscal  impontions  that 
have  from  time  to  time  been  imposed  upon  the  national  drink, 
found  Tent  and  a  safety-valve  in  song : — 

^  Let  ministers  shape  the  duty  on  Cape, 

And  ordain  that  port  shall  be  dear ; 
But  damn  their  eyes  if  ever  they  tries 

To  rob  a  poor  man  of  his  beer. 
For  I  likes  a  drop  of  good  beer,  I  does, 

I  be  mortally  fond  of  beer,  I  is. 
Then  loudly  sing,  Live  Billy  the  King 

For  bating  the  tax  upon  beer." 

The  converse  of  this  was  found  in  last  year's  proposed  Budget 
(1885),  when  a  proposal  to  increase  the  duty  on  beer  was  the 
means  of  turning  out  the  then  Government : — 

**  Oh,  you !  who  failed  to  understand 
That  beer  was  dear  throughout  this  sea-girt  land." 

Again: — 

^  O  !  think  ye,  high  rulers,  ere  time  bears  away 
The  labourer's  strength  thro'  the  laws  of  our  day. 
How  hard  'tis  they  toil  to  replenish  your  store ; 
O  !  tax  not  the  liquor  which  cheers  up  the  poor." 

The  points  which  I  have  barely  touched  upon  in  this  intro- 
ductory chapter  will  be  dealt  with  more  folly  in  due  course ; 
meanwhile,  I    trust   that  the  reader   will  be  gratefol  for  the 


24  In  Praise  cf  Ale. 

neoeanrily  imperfea  collection  of  occasiooai  verse,  satires^ 
ejagnunsy  humorous  oarratiyesy  trivial  ditties,  and  ballads  which 
fill  oar  collections  with  sketches  of  the  time  so  lively,  that  we 
should  deeply  regret  to  lose,  as  history,  what  is  rarely  of  much 
value  as  song.  These,  like  the  fables,  represent  less  the  ad- 
vancbg  and  the  moral  elements  than  temporary  feelings,  or 
bdong  to  the  style  which  was  passing  away.  They  are  valuable 
for  iUostration  of  manners  and  for  indications  of  the  progress  of 
thought,  but  except  for  such  purposes,  their  slumber  is  little 
likely  to  be  broken.  Indeed,  the  general  knowledge  that  the 
mass  exists,  and  fills  long  shelves,  and  so  is  buried  in  the  vast 
coUectbns  of  the  British  Museum  and  other  libraries,  has  been  a 
serious  cause  of  the  indifference  of  the  general  public  to  this 
peculiar  class  of  literature,  which  is  doubly  valuable  inasmuch  as 
it  holds  the  mirror  up  to  human  nature  for  many  generations 
past.  Poets,  dramatists,  fugitive  writers,  novelists,  and  historians 
have  all  written  in  praise  of  ale ;  and  their  works  have  been  im- 
partially mixed  in  the  compilation  of  the  following  pages.  The 
reader  will  therefore  find  no  lack  of  variety  of  expression  or 
style. 

I  have  gathered  my  material  partly 

**  From  old  records 
Of  antique  proverbs,  drawn  from  Whttsun  lords. 
And  their  authorities  at  cakes  and  ales. 
With  country  precedents,  and  old  wives'  tales." 

The  theme  has  been  one  that  has  inspired  the  best  writers  of 
our  language.  I  am  not  aware  that  Still  was  a  worse  bishop  for 
having  written,  or  rather  adapted,  his  well-known  song,  **  Jolly 
Good  Ale  and  Old,"  from  an  earlier  version  ;  or  still  more  that 
Reginald  Heber  was  less  earnest  in  his  life-work  because,  in  his 
eariier  days,  he  wrote  two  or  three  of  the  best  Brazenose  orations 
in  praise  of  ale.  The  witty  dean  who  wrote,  <<The  Night  Before 
Larry  was  Stretched,"  missed  his  bishoprick  in  consequence ;  but 
then  he  did  not  write  upon  beer. 

Again,  was  Archdeacon  RoUeston  the  worse  for  having  written 
one  of  the  most  erudite  works  in  the  language,  showing  the  great 


Introduction.  ^5 

antiquity  of  barley  wine  ?  I  firmly  believe  that  Prince  Bismarcky 
beer  lover  as  he  ia,  can  twiat  our  milk-and-water  statesmen  round 
his  little  finger.  Pope  was  not  famous  for  veracity,  so  we  can 
set  aside  his  combined  sneer  at  beer  and  Welsted 

"  FI0W9  Welstedy  flow,  like  thine  inspirer,  beer, 

Though  stale,  not  ripe ;  though  thin,  yet  never  clear : 
So  sweetly  mawkish,  and  so  smoothly  dull ; 

Heady,  not  strong ;  and  foaming,  though  not  fiiU." 

Sir  J(^n  Denham's  original  of  the  above  parody  is  bx  more 
applicable  to  ale :  — 

^  O,  could  I  flow  like  thee  and  make  thy  stream 
My  great  example,  as  it  is  my  theme  I 
Though  deep,  yet  clear ;  though  gentle,  yet  not  dull ; 
Strong,  without  rage,  without  overflowing  full." 

The  annexed  is  anonj^noous ;  but  the  truth  of  the  lines  constitute 
their  beauty :— - 

**  Ale  is  stout  and  good, 
Whether  in  bottle  it  be  or  wood : 
'Tls  good  at  morning,  'tis  good  at  night — 
Ye  should  drink  while  the  liquor's  bubbling  bright ; 
'TIS  good  for  man,  for  woman,  and  child. 
Being  neither  too  strong  nor  yet  too  mild." 

As  the  sentiments  I  have  endeavoured  to  express  have  been 
embodied  in  songs,  I  cannot  do  better  than  bring  this  chapter  to 
a  close  harmoniously. 

Thb  BEER-DamKiNo  Buton. 
Song  by  Mr.  Beard  in  Harlequin  Mercury. 

[From  the  GauUman*t  Magazine^  May,  17  57,  given  with  music] 

Ye  true,  honest  Britons,  who  love  your  own  land, 
Whose  sires  were  so  brave,  so  victorious,  and  free, 

Who  always  beat  France  when  they  took  her  in  hand, 
Come  join,  honest  Britons,  in  chorus  with  me. 


26  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Join  in  chorus,  join  in  chorus  with  roe, 

G)nie  join,  honest  Britons,  in  chorus  with  me. 

Let  us  sing  our  own  treasures,  old  England's  good  cheer, 

The  profits  and  pleasures  of  stout  British  beer. 

Your  wine-dppling,  dram-sipping  fellows  retreat. 

But  your  beer-drinking  Britons  can  never  be  beat. 

The  French,  with  their  vineyards,  are  meagre  and  pale. 
They  drink  of  the  squeezings  of  half-ripen'd  fruit ; 

But  we,  who  have  hop-grounds  to  mellow  our  ale, 
Are  rosy  and  plump  and  have  freedom  to  boot. 

Let  us  sing  our  own  treasures,  &c. 

Should  the  French  dare  invade  us,  thus  arm'd  with  our  poles, 
We'U  bang  their  bare  ribs,  make  their  lanthom-jaws  ring ; 

For  your  beef-eating  Britons  are  souls 

Who  will  shed  their  last  drop  for  their  country  and  king. 

Let  us  sing  our  own  treasures,  &c. 

Here  is  another  patriotic  stave : — 

In  Praise  of  Old  English  Beer. 
Set  by  Mr.  Leveridge,'  1 734. 

Of  good  English  Beer  our  songs  let's  raise. 

We've  right  by  our  freebom  Charter, 
And  follow  our  brave  forefathers'  ways. 

Who  lived  in  the  time  of  ELing  Arthur. 
Of  those  gallant  days  loud  Fame  hath  told. 

Beer  gave  the  stout  Britons  spirit ; 
In  love  they  spoke  truth,  and  in  war  they  were  bold. 

And  flourish'd  by  dint  of  merit. 

Chorus — ^Then  like  them  crown  our  Bowls, 
Our  plenteous  Brown  Bowls, 

And  take  'em  off  clever. 
To  all  English  souls. 
To  all  English  souls. 

And  Hurrah,  Old  England  for  ever. 


Jntreduction. 

Tbe  Gloiy  Id  Lore  or  war  they  won, 

By  fightJDg,  Retreat*,  or  Saliies, 
Wu  from  the  production  of  their  own 

Good  Beer  and  Rout  Beef  in  their  belliea. 
All  Foreign  attempt*  they  did  diadain. 

So  fired  with  Resolution, 
For  Liberty  then  tbey  would  bleed  eraiy  rein, 

To  keep  thnr  old  ConttitutioD. 
Cjiorw— Then  lilte,  &c. 

Like  them  let  ui  fill,  let  ui  drink  and  nng, 

To  all  who  our  State  are  aiding, 
So  Conunerce  that  all  our  Wealth  doe*  bring. 

And  every  Drancb  of  our  Trading, 
By  Commerce  all  Grandeur  we  mimain. 

That  make*  ui  a  powerful  nation  ; 
Then  let  lu  agree,  and  with  vigour  maintain, 

Our  Trade  aud  our  Navigation. 

Ciorwj— Then  like,  &c. 


28 


CHAPTER   IK 

HISTORY. 
**  0,  ale  oB^alaidOf  thou  Squor  of  life. 


99 


*^  To  the  fraise  of  Gamhrmus^  that  old  British  king, 
Who  deviidfor  the  nation  {by  the  IVelchman^i  tale)^ 
Seventeen  hundred  years  before  Christ  did  springs 
The  happy  invention  of  a  pot  of  good  ale^ 

— Thos.  Randall. 

Beforb  going  further^  it  may  be  as  well  to  take  a  retrospectiTe 
glance  at  the  early  history  of  ale ;  and  though  Archdeacon  Rol- 
leston  was  not  the  first  writer  on  the  subject  by  any  means,  his  dis- 
sertation "Concerning  the  Origin  and  Antiquity  of  Barley  Wme," 
published  in  1750,  is  the  most  scholarly  and  erudite  compilation 
on  this  subject  in  the  English  language.  He  proves  conclusively, 
from  the  writings  of  the  learned  of  all  ages,  that  ale  or  barley- wine 
is  of  far  greater  antiquity  than  has  generally  been  supposed*  "  It  is 
very  remarkable/'  says  the  Archdeacon,  "  that  of  all  creatures  in 
the  universe  whose  nature  and  actions  we  are  at  all  acquainted  with, 
man  is  the  only  one  which  is  hypochondriacal — that  is,  which  is 
subject  to  lowness  of  spirits — and  wants,  as  it  were,  physic  in  a 
state  of  health.  There  are  none  of  us  who  can  live  comfortably 
upon  what  we  call  the  necessaries  of  life  only,  but  all  stand 
frequently  in  need  of  other  recruits.  Other  creatures  can  labour 
and  toil  and  still  continue  their  cheerfulness  without  anything  but 
what  is  just  necessary  to  support  their  beings  and  keep  them  alive. 
This  is  not  the  case  with  men :  they  cannot  hold  out  without 
some  spirituous  refreshment,  some  liquor  to  cheer  them,  that  is 
stronger  than  simple  water.  I  cannot  think  that  Noah  was  the 
inventor  of  wine,  but  imagine  he  was  taught  to  make  it  by  the 


History.  29 

antedilunans  who  were  eating  and  drinking  and  enjoying  them- 
selvet  wben  the  flood  came.  The  same  need  of  refreshment 
which  caused  the  invention  of  wine  in  that  part  of  the  world 
where  man  was  first  placed  did  very  soon  after  in  other  countries 
produce  other  liquors  which  might  have  the  same  effect  Men 
located  in  countries  that  did  not  produce  the  grape,  extracted 
liqours  from  numberless  things,  and  succeeded  very  well,  finding 
there  were  but  few  fruits  or  grains  of  which  they  could  not  make 
something  that  would  cheer  the  spirits.  Pliny  reckons  up  195 
different  kinds  of  drink  which  men  had  invented.  St.  Jerom 
makes  mention  of  ale,  cyder,  mead,  and  palm  wine,  as  strong 
liquors  able  to  make  men  drunk.  Amongst  all  this  variety  there 
was  none  made  use  of  in  more  countries  than  what  was  extracted 
from  barley,  which  Xenophon  and  Aristotle  (as  he  is  quoted  by 
Athensras)  call  bariey  wine.  This  is  undoubtedly  a  liquor  of 
very  great  antiquity,  but  I  cannot  think  it  was  invented  before 
wine,  though  an  old  scholiast  upon  JEschylus,  whose  judgment  we 
have  no  great  reason  to  regard,  is  of  a  different  opinion,  and  tells 
us  that  the  Egyptians  had  invented  ale  before  wine  was  known. 
According  to  some,  '  sabarum,'  or  '  sabara,'  is  another  name  for 
barley  wine  among  the  Dalmatians  and  Parmonians.  That  the 
people  of  those  countries  used  to  make  a  strong  drink  of  barley  we 
learn  finom  several  authors.  The  word  sabarum  is  certainly  of 
Hebrew  origin. 

^The  ancient  names  which  we  meet  with  are  in  the  Egyptian. 
Bouzy,  then  undoubtedly  our  English  word  Bowse,  or  booze, 
which  is  properly  us'd  of  drinking  ale  heartily,  for  we  never  say 
of  a  man  who  is  used  to  drink  wine  that  he  is  a  bowsing  fellow. 
The  word  Bouzy  is  derived  firom  Buiirh,  the  name  of  a  city  in 
Deka." 

Ned  Ward,  in  one  of  his  peregrinations,  relates,  that  **  Old 
Pharaoh ''  was  a  recognised  name  for  some  specially  strong  ale 
that  he  met  with.  This  confirms  Rolleston  as  to  the  Egyptian 
origin  of  ale. 

*^The  eldest  name  which  we  meet  with  of  this  liquor  is  what 
Moses  makes  use  of  more  than  once  in  the  Pentateuch — 
Leviticus  x.  9,  Numbers  vi.  3 — l^b^,  Schekar.     The  Hebrew 


30  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

word  may  indeed  dgoify  any  other  strong  liquor  as  well  as  beer 
or  ale,  for  it  is  derived  firom  ISB^^  inebriarity  and  implies  any  kind 
of  inebriating  liquor  whatsoever,  as  we  learn  firom  St.  Jerom.  But 
seeing  it  is  mentioned,  not  only  by  Moses  but  the  prophets,  as  a 
liquor  distinct  from  wine,  and  likewise  of  the  inebriating  sort ; 
and  as  it  is  most  certain  that  beer  or  ale  was  in  use  among 
the  Jews,  and  that  it  was  common  for  them  to  get  drunk  with 
it,  it  is  very  probable  that  this  is  the  liquor  to  be  understood  by 
the  word  Scbekar.  It  was  m  the  barley-fields  that  Boaz  first 
met  Ruth." 

The  learned  author  is  in  doubt  as  to  the  origin  of  the  word 
Zythos,  clearly  a  Greek  word,  but  he  states  that  the  Greeks 
proverbially  lived  well ;  and  we  must  not  think  it  a  wonder,  when 
they  found  a  new  liquor  which  they  greatly  liked  and  approved 
of,  and  gave  it  a  name  which  they  took  for  the  Liquor  of  Rfe. 
From  which  is  derived  the  phrase,  ale  ab^aHendo. 

Sabarum,  or  Sahara,  is  another  name  for  barley  wine  among 
the  Dalmatians  and  Pannonians.  That  the  people  of  these 
countries  used  to  make  a  strong  drink  of  barley,  we  learn 
from  several  authors.  The  word  Sabarum  is  certainly  of 
Hebrew  extraction;  from  whence  also  is  derived  Sabaziiis,  a 
name  for  Bacchus  in  some  countries,  mentioned  more  than  once 
by  Aristophanes. 

Though  I  prefer  to  look  to  Ceres  as  the  patroness  of  barley 
bree,  barley- wine,  beer,  or  any  other  form  of  our  National  Drink, 
the  name  of  Bacchus  occurs  so  often  in  these  pages,  that  a  few 
words  anent  the  Drunken  God  may  not  be  out  of  place. 

An  old  proverb  describes — 

*^  Gowell-beUyed  Bacchus,  giant-like, 
Bestryd  a  strong  beere  barreL" 

In  Bellamy's  ^  History  of  all  Religions  "  we  find  the  following 
parallels  drawn  between  Moses  and  Bacchus,  or  rather  as  to  the 
origin  of  the  Greek  deity : — ^  It  is  said  in  the  mythology  that 
Bacchus  dried  up  the  rivers  Orontet  and  Hydatpes^  by  striking  them 
with  his  Thyrsus,  and  passed  over  them ;  Moses  divided  the 
Red  Sea  and  the  river  Jordan  with  his  rod,  and  passed  through 


History.  3 1 

them.    That  an  try  stick  thrown  on  the  ground  by  Bacchus  crept 
like  a  dragon  : 

**  *  Strange  to  relate  1  here  ivy  first  was  seen  ; 
Along  the  disufT  crept  the  wond'rous  green. 
Then  sudden  springing  vines  began  to  bloom. 
And  the  soft  tendrils  curl'd  around  the  loom.' 

EUSDEN. 

Soi  by  the  command  of  Moses,  the  rod  of  Aaron  was  cast 
down,  which  became  a  serpent.  That  the  enemies  of  Bacchus 
once  were  aU  covered  with  darkness,  while  those  who  were  with 
him  enjoyed  perfect  day ;  the  same  is  recorded  concerning  Moses. 
A  dog  was  given  to  Bacchus  as  a  constant  companion ;  so  Moses 
had  his  Caleb,  which  in  Hebrew  signifies  a  dog.  The  ark  was 
one  of  the  most  sacred  symbols  given  to  Moses.  All  the  writers 
I  have  seen,"  continues  Bellamy,  ^  agree  in  stating  the  Greeks  to 
have  had  one  supreme  and  eleven  subordinate  gods.  These,  in 
after  ages,  appear  to  have  been  worshipped  by  them.  The  truth 
is,  they  were  neighbours  to  the  Hebrews,  and  heard  how  the 
twelve  tribes  were^  delivered,  and  by  what  mighty  power  they 
conquered  the  land  of  Canaan  ;  which  was,  no  doubt,  the  reason 
why  they  committed  it  to  the  pages  of  their  mythology,  and 
which,  in  after  ages,  were  personified,  applied  to  their  principal 
leaders,  and  worshipped.  Thus  did  the  history  of  the  twelve 
tribes  of  the  Hebrews  lay  the  foundation  of  twelve  sects  among 
the  Greeks,  each  sect  having  their  idol." 

To  return  to  RoUeston  and  barley-wine. 

^  The  next  name  of  this  barley  liquor  is  Brutum  ;  thus  it  was 
called  in  particular  among  the  Paronians.  We  learn  from 
Athensnis  that  this  word  was  to  be  found  in  several  ancient 
authors.  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  word  Brutum  comes  fh)m 
Bfv/,  which  was  thought  among  the  ancient  Greeks  to  be  the 
natural  cry  of  children  when  they  wanted  drink.  We  have  both 
these  words  in  Aristophanes,  and  from  hence,  to  be  sure,  are  we 
to  derive  our  English  word  Brew,  and  also  Beer.** 

Then  the  author  treats  of  the  word  Cunm^  but  he  cannot  give 


32  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

the  exact  origin  thereof.  It  is  used  by  Dioscorides,  who  has  a 
chapter  thereon ;  and  Ulpian  raises  a  curious  legal  question  :  If  a 
testator  bequeaths  to  anyone  all  the  wine  in  his  cellar,  will  the 
executor  be  obliged  to  give  the  legatee  all  the  beer  and  aU  which 
shall  be  found,  as  it  is  wine  made  from  bariey  ?  and  the  same 
authority  decides,  that  neither  ale  or  beer  is  bequeathed,  neither 
zythiun,  curmi,  nor  cenrisia.  As  for  the  derivation  oi  the  word 
Curmi^  I  make  no  doubt  but  that  it  comes  from  the  Hebrew 
Fhua^  for  it  was  the  wine  of  the  country  where  there  was  not 
plenty  of  grapes.  In  Spam,  we  are  told  by  Pliny,  this  liquor  was 
called  Celia  and  Cerku 

Cerevlsid  is  another  word  used  by  the  ancients  for  this  barley 
wine.  Pliny,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  is  the  first  who  mentions  this 
name  for  it,  and  he  says  it  was  so  called  in  GauL 

From  these  authorities  the  author  proves  that  in  such  countries 
that  were  not  fit  for  vineprds,  there  was  a  pleasant  and  strong 
liquor  made  of  barley.  That  this  was  originally  invented  to 
supply  the  place  of  wine  is  plain  from  the  nature  of  the  thing,  as 
it  is  likewise  attested  by  several  authors  of  antiquity.  Athenaeus 
tells  us,  from  ^  Dio,  the  Academic,''  that  it  was  invented  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor,  who  were  not  in  circumstances  to  buy  wine. 
But  it  did  not  always  continue  a  liquor  amongst  the  poor  only, 
for  in  time,  when  improvements  were  made  in  malting  and 
brewing  (and  no  new  art  is  presently  brought  to  perfection),  it 
came  to  be  esteemed  by  the  richer  sort  of  people,  who  could  have 
afibrded  to  drink  a  dearer  liquor,  and  persons  of  best  fashion  and 
taste  drank  it,  and  that  sometimes  to  excess.  That  this  was  the 
case  amongst  the  Jews  is,  I  think,  clear  from  several  passages  in 
the  Old  Testament : — ^  Do  not  drink  wine  nor  strong  drinks  when 
ye  go  into  the  tabernacle'' — Levit,  x.  8. 

For  this  excellent  liquor,  then,  the  world  is  indebted  to  an  old 
Egyptian  king  (for  there  was  a  time  when  kings  studied  arts  and 
sciences,  and  were  very  useful  to  the  nations  they  governed  by 
consulting  the  good  of  their  people).  His  name  was  Osiris,  who 
was,  after  his  death,  for  the  great  good  he  had  done  his  country, 
and  mankind  in  general,  worshipped  as  a  god.  The  learned 
author  assigns  the  time  at  which  this  benefactor  ruled  and  fiour- 


History.  33 

Uied  to  be  a  little  after  that  of  Mizraim ;  and,  having  proved 
coQchitively  enough  that  the  ancients  made  an  excellent  liquor  of 
barley,  he  winds  up  sensibly  with  the  following  remark : — ^  If,  in 
treating  upon  so  many  useful  particulars,  I  have  been  too  tedious, 
I  have  only  to  ask  pardon,  and  to  promise  that  I  will  never  give 
myself  any  further  trouble  about  ale  or  heer^  unless  for  my  own 
drinkmg." 

Dean  Swift  was  in  thorough  accord  with  Archdeacon  Rolles- 
ton  when  he  wrote : — ^  There  is  no  nation  yet  known  in  either 
hemisphere  where  the  people  of  all  conditions  are  more  in  want 
of  some  cordial  to  keep  up  their  spirits  than  m  this  of  ours.'* 
Bishop  Earle,  again,  showed  true  and  generous  appreciation  of  the 
wants  of  the  poorer  classes,  in  writing : — **  A  tavern  is  the  busy 
man's  recreation,  the  idle  man's  business,  the  melancholy  man's 
sanctuary,  the  stranger's  welcome,  the  inns-of-courts  man's  enter- 
tainment, the  scholar's  kindness,  and  the  citizen's  courtesy." 

Dr.  James  Mackenzie  wrote  his  history  of  health  in  1 758,  and 
confinns  Rolleston  as  to  the  antiquity  of  beer,  in  the  order  of 
diet  which  was  observed  from  the  creation  to  the  time  of  Moses : 
fruit,  seeds,  herbs,  bread,  milk,  fish,  flesh,  wine,  and  ale, 

Mr,  James  Samuelson,  in  his  "  History  of  Drink,"  inclines  to 
the  belief  that  the  Chinese  were  not  only  acquainted  with  and 
practised  the  art  of  fermentation,  but  also  of  distillation,  and 
quotes  from  the  Sbe^King^  or  book  of  Chinese  poetry,  written 
about  1 1 1 6  B.C.,  and  the  Sboo-King^  or  prose  history  of  the 
period.  In  the  latter  we  learn  that  **  strong  drink  is  intended  to 
be  used  in  offering  sacrifices  and  entertaining  guests:  such  employ- 
ment of  it  is  what  Heaven  has  prescribed."  The  poetical  history 
contains  numerous  allusions  to  the  drinking  habits  of  the  then 
Celestials:— 

**  See  the  mighty  cups  of  horn 
Round  their  ranks  in  order  borne  1 
Full  of  spirits  soft  and  good. 
It  excites  no  conduct  rude ; 
Surely  blessings  haste  to  greet 
Lord  of  virtues  so  complete." 


34  J^  Praise  of  Ale. 

Mr.  Samuekon  fortifies  his  belief  in  the  Chinese  knowledge  of 
distillation  from  the  same  work : — 

**  Pve  strained  and  made  my  spirits  clear. 
The  fatted  lamb  I've  killed, 
With  friends  whom  my  own  somame  bear, 
My  haU  I've  largely  filled." 

This  shows  that  hospitality  was  an  ancient  virtue;  though,  if 
the  host's  patronymic  happened  to  be  Smith,  Brown,  or  Jones, 
or  the  Chinese  equivalent  for  those  tribes,  his  resources  would  be 
heavily  taxed. 

Two  lines  fifom  Pope's  version  of  the  «*  Iliad  "  seem  to  bear 
somewhat  on  the  question  of  malt  beverage,  and  are  peculiar :  — 

**  For  this  my  spouse  of  great  Aetion's  line 
So  oft  has  steep'd  the  strength'ning  grain  in  wine." 

Of  modem  writers,  Lord  Neaves  is  one  of  the  most  graceful, 
versatile,  and  scholarly ;  and  by  the  kind  permission  oi  Messrs* 
W.  Blackwood  5c  Sons,  I  am  enabled  to  enliven  this  historic 
chapter  with  an  apposite  poem : — 

Old  Noah's  Invention. 

We  read  that  old  Noah,  soon  after  the  flood, 
Found  out  a  new  liquor  to  quicken  the  blood : 
Of  water  grown  tired  in  his  long  navigation. 
He  hit  on  the  process  of  vinification. 
It  doesn't  appear  that  he  took  out  a  patent. 
But  the  wondrous  discovery  wasn't  long  latent ; 
For  Noah,  though  such  might  not  be  his  intention. 
Got  drunk  on  this  very  stupendous  invention. 

And  ever  smce  then,  we  have  evidence  ample. 
Mankind  has  been  following  Noah's  example : 
Sometimes  they  get  drunk,  and  sometimes  they  do  not ; 
But  the  business  of  drinking  is  seldom  forgot. 


History.  35 

They  drink  when  they're  merry,  they  drink  when  they're  sad ; 
They  drink  whensoefer  good  drink's  to  be  had. 
What  marriage  or  christening  would  meet  with  attention 
If  yon  didn't  still  practise  this  wondrous  invention  ? 

The  Wine-Cop  may  Poetry  claim  as  a  daughter, 

Though  a  poet  or  two  have  been  drinkers  of  water : 

Good  wine  to  the  wise  is  a  swift-wmgU  steed, 

Whik  abstainers  in  general  come  little  speed. 

Would  Homer  or  Horace  have  written  a  line 

Without  plenty  of  Greek  and  Falemian  wine  \ 

What  were  North  without  Ambrose  ?  or  who  would  e'er  mention 

A  Socratic  repast  without  Noah's  uvention  ? 

Old  Plato,  the  prince  of  political  sages. 
For  the  uses  of  drinkmg  his  credit  engages : 
When  pleasure  invites,  if  you'd  learn  self-denial, 
A  convivial  meeting  will  serve  as  a  trial. 
Should  you  wish  to  find  out  if  a  man's  a  good  fellow, 
His  virtues  and  faults  will  appear  when  he's  mellow : 
To  whatever  good  gifts  he  may  e'er  make  pretennon, 
The  truth  you  can  test  by  old  Noah's  invention. 

Some  folks  would  persuade  us  from  drink  to  abstain. 

For  they  trace  every  crime  to  that  terrible  bane ; 

But  if  drinking's  a  sin,  yet  I  cannot  help  thinking 

Mankind  have  had  sins  independent  of  drinkmg. 

The  Antediluvians  were  free  from  that  curse. 

But  their  lives  were  no  better — in  £ict,  they  were  worse; 

And  at  least  you  can't  prove  any  moral  declension 

Since  the  date  when  old  Noah  made  known  his  mvention. 

Then  wisely  partake  of  the  generous  juice. 
But  don't  forfeit  the  boon  by  excess  or  abuse; 
At  your  board  let  the  muses  and  graces  be  found. 
And  the  light-hearted  virtues  still  hover  around. 

c  2 


36  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  let  this,  I  beseech  you,  be  one  of  your  nil< 
Never  show  any  folly  in  presence  of  fools; 
For  the  wise  man  alone  has  a  due  comprehension, 
And  can  make  a  right  use — of  old  Noah*s  invention. 

Apropos  of  the  above  song  and  other  writings  I  have 
collected  tog^er,  the  following  firom  the  pen  of  Dean  Ramsay 
deserves  to  be  printed  in  letters  of  gold :  **  No  one,  I  think,  need 
be  ashamed  of  his  endeavours  to  cheer  the  darker  hours  of  his 
fellow-traveller's  steps  through  life,  or  to  beguile  the  hearts  of 
the  weary  and  the  heavy-laden,  if  only  for  a  time,  into  cheerful  and 
amusing  trains  of  thought." 

Mr.  Samnelson's  views  are  confirmed  by  Morewood  m  his 
**  Essays  on  the  Inventions  and  Customs  of  the  Ancients,**  in 
which  is  sheivn  that  the  Chinese  came  to  love  ale  not  wisely,  but 
too  well: — «* Under  the  government  of  the  Emperor  21u  or 
Ta^yUf  before  Christ  2207,  the  making  of  ale,  or  wine,  from 
rice,  was  invented  by  an  ingenious  agriculturist  named  /-/jr^,  and 
that,  as  the  use  of  this  liquor  was  likely  to  be  attended  with  evil 
consequences,  the  emperor  expressly  forbid  the  manufacture  or 
drinking  of  it  under  the  severest  penalties.  He  even  renounced 
it  himself,  and  dismissed  his  cupbearer,  lest,  as  he  said,  the 
princes,  his  successors,  might  suffer  their  hearts  to  be  effeminated 
with  so  delicious  a  beverage.  This,  however,  had  not  the  desired 
effect,  for  having  once  tasted  it,  the  people  could  never  afterwards 
entirely  abstain  from  the  bewitching  draught.  It  was,  even  at  a 
very  early  period,  carried  to  such  excess  and  consumed  in  such 
abundance,  that  the  Emperor  KyOf  the  Nero  of  China,  in  1836 
before  Christ,  ordered  3000  of  his  subjects  to  jump  mto  a 
larg^  lake  which  he  had  prepared  and  filled  with  it ;  while 
Cbiu'vangf  in  1120,  thought  it  prudent  to  assemble  the 
princes  to  suppress  its  manu&cture,  as  the  source  of  infinite  mis- 
fortune in  his  dombions.  The  cultivation  of  the  vine  has  been 
known  and  practised  in  China  from  the  most  remote  period. 
Indeed,  all  the  songs  which  remain  of  the  early  dynasties  down 
to  that  of  Han,  which  commenced  206  years  before  the 
Christian   era,   confirm   this  opinion.      Might   not,'*  continues 


History.  37 

Morewood,  ^  this  I-tye  be  one  of  the  immediate  descendants  of 
Noah  ?  Dr.  Hales,  m  his  Analysis  of  Chronology,  is  of  opinion 
that  it  was  the  family  of  Shem  that  peopled  China ;  but  the 
writers  of  the  Uni?enal  History  think  that  Noah  himself,  being 
discontented  with  the  party  that  had  been  formed  to  build  the 
tower  of  Babel,  separated  firom  the  main  body,  and,  with  some 
followers,  travelling  eastwards,  at  last  entered  China,  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  that  vast  empire. 

**  Some  think,  that  by  the  invention  Pliny  mentions,  *  that  water 
was  made  to  intoxicate,'  is  meant  distillation.  It  would  certainly 
i^pear  to  be  something  very  different  from  the  ordinary  mode  of 
obtaining  liquors  by  fermentation  ;  but  as  this  cannot  be  done  with 
propriety,  it  means  nothing  more  than  the  intoxicating  power  or 
strength  acquired  by  water  in  the  fermenting  process  of  the  grain. 
*  Hen  mira  vitiorum  solertia !  inventum  est  quemadmodum  aqua 
inebriaret' — 'Oh,  wondrous  craft  of  the  vices !  by  some  mode 
or  other  it  was  discovered  that  water  also  might  be  made  to 
inebriate.'-^Pliny,  b.  xiv.,  s.  29. 

**  Mr*  Murphy,  in  one  of  his  notes  on  Tacitus,  understood  Pliny 
as  if  he  ^ke  of  distillation  in  the  above  passage.  *  Pliny,  the 
elder/  says  he,  'observes  that  the  Egyptians  had  their  intoxi- 
cating liquors  distilled  from  grain,  which  their  country  produced 

in  great  abundance.' — ^  De  Morib.,  German,'  vol.  iv.,  p.  268. 
•  •  •  .  •  • 

**  Poncet  tells  us,  that  in  many  parts  of  Ethiopia  there  are 
excellent  grapes,  but  that  no  wine  is  manufactured ;  mead  is  the 
chief  drink.  In  the  making  of  this,  several  ingredients  are  em- 
ployed ;  the  barley  which  forms  the  basis  of  it  is  malted  to  a 
certain  degree,  and  then  dried,  as  we  do  coffee,  and  pounded  fine ; 
while  an  indigenous  root  called  taddo  is  bruised  and  mixed  with 
the  bariey.  These  are  put  with  water  into  a  well-varnished 
vessel,  and  mixed  with  a  fourth  part  of  honey ;  and  to  ten  pounds 
ol  this  water  are  put  two  ounces  of  barley,  and  two  ounces  of 
taddo.  The  whole  is  blended  together,  and  left  in  a  warm  place 
to  ferment;  it  is  stirred  occasionally,  and  in  three  or  four  days  it 
becomes  excellent  mead,  pure  and  clear,-  of  the  colour  of  Spanish 
white  wine.      (Lockman's  'Travels  of  the  Jesuits.')      It  is 


38  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

•aid  to  be  a  delightfbl  bererage,  and  of  great  strength.  In 
Abytnnia,  brandy,  not  inferior  to  that  of  France,  is  distilled 
from  it.  According  to  Bruce,  their  beer  is  of  an  inferior 
description,  drawn  from  teff,  a  grain  common  in  Abyssinia ;  or 
from  barley.  One  or  other  of  these  grains  being  ground,  is  first 
baked  into  cakes,  and  then  broken  into  small  particles  in  a  large 
well-covered  jar,  which  is  set  by  the  fire,  and  stirred  frequently, 
for  several  days.  After  being  allowed  to  settle  for  three  or  four 
days  more,  it  acquires  a  sourish  taste,  and  what  the  Abyssinians 
call  Bouza.  (Bruce's  ^Travels  to  Discover  the  Source  of  the 
Nile,'  vol  vi*,  p.  94.)  Of  this,  as  well  as  of  the  mead  already 
mentioned,  they  drink  largely  when  they  visit  one  another ;  and, 
if  Lobo  is  to  be  credited,  there  cannot  be  a  greater  offence  against 
good  manners  than  to  let  the  guests  go  away  sober.  The  liquor 
on  such  occasions  is  always  presented  by  a  servant,  who  drinks 
first  himself,  and  then  gives  the  cup  to  the  company,  in  order, 
and  agreeably  to  their  rank  or  station. 

<*The  inebriating  drinks  used  by  the  other  rude  tribes  of  the 
African  contment,  whether  Mahometan  or  pagan,  are  so  much 
alike,  that  to  describe  them  all  would  be  tedious,  and,  were  it 
possible,  useless ;  a  few  of  the  nx>st  interesting  may  suffice* 

**  The  beverages  of  the  Negroes  are,  according  to  Park,  beer 
and  mead ;  the  latter  we  find  to  be  a  species  of  drink  very  common 
in  Africa,  owing  to  the  great  abundance  of  honey,  while  the 
former  is  made  wherever  any  fiuinaceous  grain  is  cultivated. 
(<  Park's  Travels,*  p.  284.,  Lond.  Edit  1807).  When  Dalzel 
was  at  the  coast  of  Dahomy,  he  observed  a  species  of  liquor 
called  Pitto,  manufactured  by  the  ladies  of  the  palace,  of  an 
agreeable  flavour  and  heady  quality.  It  was  prepared  firom  grain 
regularly  fermented,  and  very  much  resembled  the  liquor  drawn 
firom  the  date-tree  by  the  people  of  Fezzan.  From  the  latter  a 
revenue  of  some  consequence  arose,  which,  Ben  Ali  says,  his 
Fezzanic  majesty  has  collected  by  a  tax  on  the  trees,  and  not  on 
the  quantity  produced. 

^  The  practice  of  drinking  buza,  or  bouza,  prevails  to  a  con- 
siderable extent  in  Sudan,  or  Dar  Fur.  The  Sultan  Abdel- 
rahman,  a  rigid  Mahometan,  published  an  ordinance  m  1795, 


History.  39 

prohibiting  the  oae  of  it  altogether  under  pain  of  death.  Eren 
the  onfortttoale  women  who  made  it  had  their  heads  shaved,  and 
were  exposed  to  erery  possible  degradation^  but  as  the  habit  of 
using  it  was  of  older  standing  than  the  profession  of  Islamism, 
companies  are  yet  known  to  sit  from  sun-rise  to  sun-set,  drinldng 
and  conversing  till  a  single  man  will  sometimes  carry  off  with 
him  two  gallons  of  this  liquor.  (^  Brown's  Travels,'  410*,  p.  222, 
24S9  333*}  The  bouza  having  a  diuretic  and  diaphoretic 
tendency,    precludes    the    danger    usually   attendant    on    such 


^  The  leaves  and  flowers  of  milfoil  or  yarrow,  inebriate,  and  are 
used  by  the  Dalecarlians  to  render  their  beer  mtoxicating. 
Clary  and  saffifon  have  the  same  effect.  The  last  exhilarates  the 
spirits  to  such  a  degree,  that  when  taken  in  large  doses,  it 
occasions  immoderate  mirth  and  laughter.  Darnel,  or  lolium 
ttmulentum,  which  is  vulgarly  known  under  the  name  of  sturdy^ 
when  malted  with  barley,  a  process  which  the  seeds  of  it  often 
undergo,  causes  the  ale  brewed  from  it  to  be  speedily  intoxicating. 
It  produces  the  same  effect  when  mixed  with  bread  and  eaten 
hot  Many  stories  are  told  of  its  effects,  some  of  which  are 
sufficiently  amusbg,  but  not  exactly  suited  to  this  essay.  Among 
these  inebriantt  the  inspissated  milky  juice  of  the  common  garden 
lettuce  is  considered  as  powerful  in  its  operation  as  opium  it- 
self." 

To  come  nearer  home,  beer  was  the  national  drink  in  England 
and  Scotland  as  early  and,  doubtless,  prior  to  the  time  of  Ethelred. 
An  early  Scotch  historian  who  flourished  long  before  the  art  of 
distillation  was  introduced  into  that  country,  wrote  :  ^The 
Caledonians  seem  to  have  delighted  greatly  in  strong  exhilarating 
liquors,  called  in  the  poetical  language  of  the  Bards,  ^the  spirit  of 
the  shell,'  because  they  drank  it  out  of  sheUs."  Ossian  has  sung 
the  praises  of  strong  ale  m  still  stronger  language,  probably  under 
the  mspiration  of  the  beverage  itself: — 

**  Nqw  on  the  side  of  Mora  the  heroes  gather  to  the  feast, 
A  thousand  oaks  are  burning  to  the  wind — 
The  strength  of  the  shell  goes  round 
And  the  souls  of  the  warriors  brighten  with  joy." 


40  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  tone  of  the  foregoing  is  certainly  elevated ;  but  as  the  beau 
ideal  of  heavenly  enjoyment  among  our  Danish  ancestors  was  the 
drinking  of  fermented  liquors  out  of  the  skulls  of  enemies  slain  in 
battle,  we  must  allow  them  a  little  extra  indulgence.  In  the 
course  of  a  long  ^  spread "  or  feast  of  the  period,  they  would 
refer  to  their  individual  powers  over  and  over  again — 

^Thrice  they  routed  all  their  foes, 
And  thrice  they  slew  their  slain." 

It  must  have  given  rise  to  a  little  uneasiness  on  the  part  of 
visitors,  to  think  that  his  neighbours  were  speculating  on  the 
capacity  of  his  skull  as  a  beer-drinking  vessel ;  and  questions  as 
to  the  rights  of  proprietorship  of  the  said  brain-pan  occasionally 
marred  the  harmony  and  good  fellowship  of  the  feast. 

That  their  faith  is  not  dead,  is  diown  by  the  following 
newspaper  extract  which  I  recently  read,  though  I  cannot  state 
my  authority  more  exactly.  It  shows,  however,  how  history 
repeats  itself,  since  the  happy  hunting-grounds  of  the  good 
Hanaques  is  more  luxurious  even  than  the  Valhalla  of  Odin. 
The  extract  shows  the  survival  of  old  faiths : — 

^  The  paradise  of  gluttons  is  a  heaven  believed  in  by  a  Sclavonic 
tribe  o(  Moravia,  the  Hanaques.  In  the  regions  of  future  bliss 
they  picture  an  inunense  mountain  of  crumbled  gingerbread, 
surrounded  at  the  base  by  a  river  of  melted  lard.  The  happy 
Hanaques  will  recline  full  length  on  the  shore,  lying  on  their 
faces,  with  the  chin  supported  on  their  hands,  and  into  their 
wide-open  mouths  will  fall  balls  of  flour,  which  have  been  cooked 
by  angels  in  the  crater  of  the  mountain.  Meanwhile  angels  will 
chant  the  national  airs,  and  there  will  be  a  perpetual  downpour  of 
beer  and  brandy,  which  will  not  wet  the  Hanaques,  but  will  only 
&11  into  their  mouths  when  they  are  thirsty." 

It  requires  one  to  believe  hard  in  order  to  picture  an  angel 
pouring  beer  dovm  a  drunkard's  throat,  however. 

Beer,  says  Chambers,  is  a  popular  drink  prepared  from  malt 
and  hops ;  the  word  is  Saxon,  formed  from  the  German  bier^  of 
the  Latin  hibere, 

Nathrolus  takes  the  zythum  and  curmi  of  the  ancients  to  be 


History,  4 ' 

the  fame  with  the  beer  and  ale  of  our  days ;  and  thinks  the  only 
difierence  between  zythum  and  curmi  to  have  consisted  in  some 
circumstances  of  the  preparation,  which  rendered  the  one  stronger 
than  the  other. 

Brewers  were  operators  who  professed  the  art  of  bnewbg. 
Brewers  were  variously  called  in  the  middle  ages  by  writers — 
brasiatoret,  bradatom,  braxionarii,  brasiatrices,  braxatrices,  and 
cambarii. — Dveang^i  Glossaries.  Bailey  derives  the  word  from 
the  Dutch  word  brmnven. 

The  drinking  customs  of  our  Gaelic  ancestors  are  thus  described 
by  Diodorus  Siculus,  and  quoted  by  Dr.  Henry  in  his  *^  History 
of  England"  Henry  adds  that  the  love  of  drink  was  introduced 
by  the  Scotch  into  England.  ««The  excessive  coldness  and 
badness  of  the  dimate  is  the  reason  that  Gaul  produceth  neither 
ffvgm  nor  olives.  The  Gauls,  being  destitute  of  these  fruits,  make 
a  strong  liquor  of  barley,  which  they  call  zithus.  They  also 
make  a  kind  of  drink  of  honey,  diluted  with  water  of  wine,  which 
is  inqxNted  to  them  by  merchants ;  they  are  fond  of  it  to  distraction, 
and  drink  it  to  excess,  until  they  are  either  overpowered  with 
sleep,  OT  inflamed  with  a  kind  of  madness.  Quarrels  often  arise 
amongst  them  when  they  are  over  their  cups,  and  they  start 
op  and  fight  m  the  most  furious  manner,  without  the  least  regard 
to  safety  or  even  life."  A  somewhat  later  writer  gives  the 
following  account  of  the  drinking  customs  in  the  Western  High- 
lands of  Scotland : — "  The  manner  of  drinking  used  by  the 
chief  men  of  the  Isles  is  called,  in  their  language,  streak,  f.^.,  a 
round,  for  the  company  sat  in  a  circle,  the  cup-bearer  filled  the 
drink  round  to  them,  and  all  was  drank  out,  whatever  the  liquor 
was,  whether  strong  or  weak.  (No  heeltaps,  gentlemen.)  They 
continued  drinking,  sometimes  twenty-four,  sometimes  forty-eight 
hours.  It  was  reckoned  a  piece  of  manhood  to  drink  until  they 
became  drunk;  and  there  were  two  men  with  a  barrow  attending 
punctually  on  such  occasions.  They  stood  at  the  door  until  some 
became  drunk,  and  they  carried  them  upon  the  barrow  to  bed, 
and  returned  again  to  their  post  as  long  as  any  continued  fresh, 
and  so  carried  off  the  whole  company,  one  by  one,  as  they  became 
incqMible.     The  truth  is,  continues  Henry,  that  mankind,  in  all 


42  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

ages,  especially  in  cold  climates,  have  been  at  great  pains  to 
secure  for  themselves  exhilarating  and  intoxicating  liquors,  which 
cheered  their  spirits,  warmed  their  hearts,  and  filled  their  minds 
with  joy." 

Sobriety  was  a  virtue  among  the  Normans,  but  at  the  time  of 
William  of  Malmesbury  they  had  accustomed  themselves  to  the 
manners  of  the  country,  in  which  a  day  and  night  were  spent  in 
feasting  without  intermission.  The  custom  of  drinking  to  pegs, 
which  had  been  introduced  by  a  law  of  Edgar,  the  peaceable, 
still  continued  at  this  period,  for,  by  a  canon  of  the  Council  of 
Westminster,  a.ix  iioi,  the  clergy  were  prohibited  to  frequent 
ale-houses,  or  to  drink  to  pegs. 

Originally  the  Welsh  and  Scots  had  two  kinds  of  ale,  called 
cofmmm  ale  and  ificed  ale ;  and  their  value  was  thus  determined : 
— **  If  a  farmer  hath  no  mead,  he  shall  pay  two  casks  of  spiced 
ale,  or  four  casks  of  common  ale,  for  one  cask  of  mead."  By 
this  law,  a  cask  of  spiced  ale,  nine  palms  in  height,  and  eighteen 
in  diameter,  was  valued  at  a  sum  of  money  equal  in  efficacy  to 
^7,  I  OS.  of  our  present  money ;  and  a  cask  of  common  ale  of  the 
same  dimensions,  at  a  sum  equal  to  ^^3,  1 5s.  This  is  a  sufficient 
proof  that  even  common  ale  m  this  period  was  an  article  of 
luxury  among  the  Welsh,  which  could  only  have  been  obtamed 
by  the  great  and  opulent. 

Mr.  W.  Sandys,  in  his  collection  of  festive  songs,  says : — 
**  The  prmcipal  liquors  in  use  amongst  the  early  inhabitants  of  our 
country  were  ale,  beer,  and  mead.  In  some  of  the  earliest  Welsh 
laws,  we  find  the  steward  of  the  king's  household  had  as  much  of 
every  cask  of  plain  ale  as  he  could  reach  with  his  middle  finger 
dipped  into  it ;  and  as  much  of  every  cask  of  ale  with  spiceries  as 
he  could  reach  with  the  second  joint  of  his  little  finger.  The 
Welsh,  as  at  present,  were  famed  for  their  ale;  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  dividing  the  classes  of  that  liquor  into  mild  ale,  clear  ale, 
and  Welsh  ale.  Ale,  indeed,  may  be  considered  a  national  drink, 
and  has  preserved  its  reputation  to  the  present  time,  although  not 
so  aristocratic  as  formerly.  Several  places  in  the  kingdom  have, 
for  a  long  series  of  years,  preserved  the  reputation  of  peculiar 
skill  in  making  this  liquor.      In  ancient  times  it  stood  forward 


History.  43 

boldly  at  the  royal  tables,  but  now  modestly  retires  to  the  side- 
board; often  has  it  been  the  subject  of  parliamentary  attention  and 
interference;  and  the  ale-brewer  in  the  1 5th  century  could  not 
sell  his  ale^  without  the  fear  of  the  '  cukkyng  stole '  and  pillory, 
until  the  ale-taster  had  pronounced  it  good,  and  '  abill  for  mannys 
body/  *' 

This  liquor  is  of  such  antiquity  in  England,  that  we  find 
mention  of  it  in  the  laws  of  Ina,  King  of  Wessex.  But  the  first 
aasize  o£ ok  was  fixed  by  the  famous  statute  ji  Henry  III* 

Chaucer  constantly  alludes  to  the  draught  of  London  ale,  and 
the  nappy  ale  of  Southwerke ;  and  Milton  follows  in  the  footsteps 
of  the  ^ther  of  English  poetry,  in  praisbg  the  spicy  nut-brovm  ale. 
Mr.  Austin  Dobson,  in  his  charming  collection  of  verses,  yclept 
''The  Sign  of  the  Lyre,"  hits  oflP  the  manner  of  the  London 
Makworm,  and  has  caught  the  true  spirit  of  the  earlier 
smgers  :— 

The  Maltworm's  Madrigal  * 

I  drink  of  the  ale  of  Southwark,  I  drink  of  the  ale  of  Chepe : 
At  noon  I  dream  on  the  settle ;  at  night  I  cannot  sleep; 
For  my  love,  my  loye,  it  groweth  ;  I  waste  me  all  the  day ; 
And  when  I  see  my  Alison,  I  know  not  what  to  say. 

«  «  «  «>  « 

The  ^Murrow,  when  he  spieth  his  dear  upon  the  tree. 
He  beateth  to  his  little  wing,  he  chirpeth  lustily ; 
But  when  I  see  sweet  Alison,  the  words  begin  to  fail; 
I  wot  that  I  shall  die  of  love — ere  I  die  not  of  ale. 

So  I  drink  of  the  ale  of  Southwark,  I  drink  of  the  ale  of  Chepe; 
All  day  I  dream  in  the  sunlight ;  I  dream  and  eke  I  weep, 
But  little  lore  of  loving  can  any  flagon  teach ; 
For  when  my  tongue  is  loos^  most,  then  most  I  lose  my  speech. 

Ale  Cerevuia  is  also  a  denomination  given  to  divers  medicated 
liquors  or  diet  drinks,  whereof  ale  is  the  basis  or  vehicle.     The 

*  Reprinted  from  **  The  Sign  of  the  Lyre,**  by  penniMion  of  Mentn. 
Kcgin  Piiii  &  Co.,  Paternoster  Square,  £.C. 


44  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

medicated  ales  make  a  ki^  article  in  our  old  dispensadona.  Such 
are  the  cerevuia  oxydorica^  for  the  eyes ;  cerevhia  anti-ariirUicaf 
against  the  gout ;  cereviita  cephaBca  for  the  head ;  cerewia  epi" 
ItptipHf  &C,  6cc.  We  meet  in  some  dispensations  with  syrup  of 
ale  made  by  boiling  tliat  liquor  to  a  consistence;  this  is  used 
against  obstricdon  in  the  kidneys,  5cc.  &c.  Ale  berry  is  ale  boiled 
with  bread  and  mace ;  sweetened,  strained,  and  drunk  hot. 

^  In  modem  usage,  the  distinction  between  ale  and  iter/*  says  a 
well-informed  writer  in  Notes  and  Queries^  ''is  different  in 
different  parts  of  the  country.  But  I  apprehend  that,  originally, 
the  distinction  was  very  clearly  marked : — 

**  Ale  being  a  liquor  brewed  from  malt^  to  be  drunk  firesh. 

''  Beer^  a  liquor  brewed  from  malt  and  bopt^  intended  to  keep. 

**  And  hence  it  is,  that,  even  at  the  present  day,  when  malt 
liquor  gets  stale,  it  is  said,  in  popular  language,  to  be  beery. 

"  The  distinction  that  I  have  pointed  out  is  clearly  observed  in 
Johnson's  Dictionary,  where  ok  is  defined :  *  A  liquor  made  by 
infusing  mali  in  hot  water,  and  then  formenting  the  liquor.' 
Beer:  'Liquor  made  from  mah  and  ^<^ ;' distinguished  from 
ale,  either  by  being  older  or  smaller.'' 

Reverting  again  to  Samuel  Morewood's  exhaustive  work,  we 
find  that  "  water-mills  were  introduced  into  the  country  about  the 
year  500,  by  which  the  inhabitants  were  enabled  to  grind  their 
grain,  and  to  render  it  more  easily  subservient  to  domestic  pur- 
poses. Ale  at  that  time  was  in  conmion  use  and  home-made. 
IVme  was  used  on  some  occasions,  but  that  was  imported ;  and 
ornaments  of  gold,  made  from  the  ore  found  in  the  mountains, 
were  by  no  means  unconunon ;  in  the  manufacture  of  them  the 
artists  displayed  no  inconsiderable  share  of  skill  and  taste. 

"  The  ancient  inhabitants,  at  their  ordinary  entertainments,  sat 
down  in  a  ring  on  rushes,  or  beds  of  grass,  instead  of  benches  or 
couches.  Three-legged  wooden  tables  were  set  before  them,  after 
the  manner  of  the  ancient  Gauls,  covered  with  victuals,  such  as 
bread  baked  on  a  gridiron,  or  under  the  ashes,  milk-meats,  flesh 
and  fish  both  broiled  and  boiled.  The  waiters,  in  the  meantime, 
handed  about  the  drink,  in  cups  made  of  wood  or  horn,  and 
sometimes  of  brass.     When  festivities  were  held  at  night, '  the 


History.  45 

lights  were  made  of  the  pith  of  rushes,  twisted  together  with  a 
small  part  of  the  skin  to  preserve  cohesion.     This  substance  was 
saturated  with  unctuous  matter,  and  formed  into  a  taper  about  the 
■ze  of  a  man's  waist,  from  which  issued  a  splendid  flame,  visible 
at  an  immense  distance.'     Ware  relates,  that  *  the  ancient  and 
peculiar  drink  of  the   Irish,  as    also    the   Britons,  was   ale. 
Dioicorides  takes  notice  of  this  drink  in  a  passage,  where  he  says 
that  the  Britons  and  Irish  (whom  he  calls  Hiberi)  instead  of  wine 
use  a  liquor  called  cwrm^  made  of  barley.     But  Camden  observes, 
that  oinii^  in  that  place,  is  corruptly  written  for  the  old  British 
word,  rcpTW,  which  signifies  ale^  which  last  name  it  took  from  the 
Dane^  who  called  it  oel :  this  is  the  liquor  which  Julian,  the 
apostate,  m  an  epigram,  calls.  The  ffftpr'mg  of  com^  and  ^ine 
wkttmi  wme.    The  Irish  have  no  name  for  this  drink,  that  I 
know  of,  but  /nmn,  which  signifies  liqu6r  in  general,  but  they 
ondentand  by  it,  ok.     Beer,  or  ale,  brewed  with  hops  to  preserve 
it  long,  is  a  liquor  of  no  great  antiquity.     The  Irish  had  also  in 
ancient  times  another  beverage,  or  mixture  of  water  and  honey, 
now  called  meaJ^  but  by  them  mlodb^  and  mU-Jum^  that  is  honey- 
mnef  as  appears  in  the  life  of  St.  Berach,  who  flourished  in 
the  seventh  century,  and  in  the  annals  of  Ulster,  under  the 
year  1107.' " 

A  writer  in  the  Antiquartan  and  Bibliographer^  gives  a  some- 
what different  rendering  of  the  word  ale,  to  that  which  we  have 
transcribed: — 

**  The  word  ale  is  peculiar  to  the  English  language,  and  has 
long  been  erroneously  supposed  to  have  originated  in  the  Saxon 
a  km^  to  kindle,  to  inflame,  because  of  the  intoxicating  qualities  of 
the  liquor  so  called.  But  ale  has  not  that  quality,  in  excess  of 
other  liquors,  and  in  its  origin  simply  meant  drink,  from  the 
Celtic  0^  drink,  or  to  drink,  and  olmdh^  the  act  of  drinking ;  olar^ 
dnmken,  addicted  to  drink ;  and  olarachd^  habitual  drunkenness. 
Draper,  as  used  in  the  passage  in  'Kind  Hart's  Dream,'  is 
the  Celtic  druapcir^  one  who  pours  out,  or  retails  liquor  in 
snull  quantities;  also  a  tippler;  whence  ale-draper  would 
signify  one  who  retailed  drink,  whether  wine,  beer,  ale,  or 
^rits.     Nares,  ignorant  of  this  derivation,  cites  Jile^  the  name 


46  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

of  a  rural  festiva],  and  adda,  *  where,  of  coutk,  nmch  ale  was 
coofumed.' 

**  In  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Jonas's  *  Life  of  St.  Colombanus ' 
(who  flourished  in  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries,  between  589 
and  610}  there  \b  the  following  curious  passage,  illustrative  of 
this  subject : — *  When  the  hour  of  refreshment  approached,  the 
minister  pf  the  refectory  endeavoured  to  serve  about  the  aU 
(cenresiam),  which  is  bruised  from  the  juice  of  wheat  and  barley, 
and  which,  above  all,  the  nations  of  the  earth,  except  the  Scordiscac 
and  Dardans,  who  inhabit  the  borders  of  the  ocean,  those  of 
Gaul,  Britain,  Ireland,  and  Germany,  and  others,  who  are  not 
unlike  them  in  manners,  use ;  he  carried  to  the  cellar  a  vessel 
which  they  called  typnu^  and  placed  it  before  the  vessel  in  which 
the  ale  was  deposited,  when,  having  touched  the  t^gpt^  he  suffered 
it  to  run  into  the  iypnuJ 

^  It  IS  a  tradition  prevalent  in  the  north  of  Ireland,  that  the 
Danes,  when  in  possession  of  the  country  in  the  ninth  century, 
brewed  beer  from  heath,  but  it  is  certain  that  this  shrub  would 
yield  a  very  unpalatable  drink  without  the  addition  of  some 
saccharine  matter.  This  may  have  been  ejected  by  the  applica- 
tion of  honey,  the  flower  of  the  heath  being  used  as  a  substitute 
for  hops,  sbce  it  is  well  known  that,  before  the  mtroduction  of 
the  latter  plant,  broom  tops,  wormwood,  and  other  bitter  herbs 
have  been  so  employed. 

^  According  to  usual  practice,  in  ancient  times,  of  fermenting 
worts  for  the  purpose  of  making  beer,  the  yeast  was  preserved  by 
means  of  a  furze,  or  whin-bush,  kept  over  in  the  chimney  until 
the  next  brewing.  This,  when  dipped  in  the  wort,  catted  the 
liquor  to  ferment.  Beer,  formerly,  according  to  a  manuscript 
dotted  1 498,^ here,'  differed  from  ale  in  being  ^hopped.' 

^  Wormus  speaks  of  the  drinking  of  heather-beer,  as  one  of  the 
pleasures  which  the  souls  of  departed  heroes  enjoyed  in  the  society 
of  the  gods.  A  gentleman,  some  years  since,  tried  the  manufiicture 
of  heather-beer  in  the  county  of  Donegal,  but  he  did  not  find  it 
to  answer  to  the  palates  of  his  northern  friends,  who  had  long 
been  accustomed  to  good  Ennishowen ;  broom,  bay-berries,  and 
ivy-berries — sorry  enough  substitutes!     Ale  was  almost  certain 


History.  47 

to  get  'eager'  before  it  was  ripe.  Nor  was  this  all:  in  the 
miniite  and  specific  directions  for  brewing,  which  are  to  be  found 
in  Hoilinshedy  it  may  be  seen  that  it  was  the  custom  to  eke  out 
the  malt  with  a  liberal  admixture  of  unmalted  oats.  From  the 
trial  of  Beau  Fielding,  it  would  appear  that  an  inferior  sort  of 
liqncM',  called  oat-ale,  was  in  use  in  &milies." 

The  art  and  mystery  of  brewing  is  doubtless  of  very  remote 
origin,  though  the  time  of  its  introduction  into  the  country  is 
unknown.  Malt  liquor  is  said  to  have  been  used  w  Britain  as 
eariy  as  the  fifth  century ;  and  it  is  pretty  certain  that  considerable 
breweries  were  in  operation  in  London  before  the  Norman 
Conquest. 

The  ale  of  Southwark  was  famous  m  Chaucer's  time : — 

^  The  nappy  goode  ale  of  Southe  werke 
Keeps  many  a  gossip  from  the  kirk." 

The  biewers  of  **  Chepe  "  were  also  famous  in  their  day,  as 
we  find  m  the  City  Archives,  19  Edward  III. 

These,  however,  appear  to  have  been  confined  to  the  pro- 
duction of  ales  of  different  qualities  and  strength,  the  prices  of 
which  were  regulated  by  the  magistracy  at  least  as  early  as 
the  year  1256.  In  the  31st  of  Henry  III.,  it  was 
determined  by  authority  that  when  a  quarter  of  barley  was  sold 
at  2s.,  then  ale  might  be  afforded  4  quarts  for  id. ;  and  when 
barley  was  at  2s.  6d.  per  quarter,  then  ale  was  to  be  7  quarts  for 
2d., — and  so  to  increase  and  decrease  at  the  rate  of  6d.  the 
quarter. — Fleetwood**  Chromcle, 

In  1302,  ground  malt  was  sold  as  low  as  3s.  4d.  the 
quarter;  yet,  within  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  after,  it  rose  to 
13s.  4d.  and  upwards,  owing  to  the  great  dearth  which  then 
prevailed.  The  price  of  ale  partook  of  the  general  deamess,  and 
the  best  sort  rose  to  3d.  and  4d.  a  iagend  (flagon  or  gallon). 
A  proclamation  was  issued  restraining  the  price  to  one  penny ^  and 
conunanding  also  that  no  wheat  should  be  malted.  In  Arnold* s 
Chromicle,  1521,  the  following  receipt  for  making  beer  occurs: — 
^  X  quarters  of  malte,  ii  quarters  wheete,  ii  quarters  ootes,  xi 
pounds  weight  hoppys,  to  make  xi  barrels  of  sengyll  beere." 


48  In  Praise  of  AU. 

It  seems  probably,  says  Bragley,  that  the  use  of  beer  was  not 
geneially  introduced  till  about  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  in  whose 
time  the  breweries  which  then  stood  on  the  banks  of  Thames, 
at  St  Catherine's,  Wapping,  and  are  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
Beer^Hoiue  on  the  map  given  in  the  Civitatis  Orbis,  were  twice 
spoiled  by  the  king's  officers,  either  for  sending  too  much  abroad 
unlicensed,  or  for  brewing  it  too  weak  for  home  consumption. 
In  Rymer's  Foedera,  under  the  date  1 492,  is  a  license  granted 
to  John  le  Merchant,  a  Fleming,  to  export  fifty  tons  or  butts  of 
beer  (quinquagmta  dolta  senritar  here) ;  and  we  find  that  one  of 
the  king's  attendants  in  France  in  that  year  was  Petrus  Vanek,  a 
beer-brewer  of  Greenwich,  in  Kent  In  1504,  the  ale  of 
London  was  sold  at  jQi  los.  per  dolium,  and  the  beer  at 
£  1  3s.  4d.  ^  Dolium,"  says  Fleetwood,  *<  does  here,  I  believe, 
signify  a  pipe  or  butt,  which  contains  1 26  gallons ;  so  that  the 
ale  oomes  to  near  3d  per  gallon,  and  the  beer  to  rather  more 
than  2^  for  the  same  quantity .'^  In  the  twenty-third  year  of 
Henry  VIII.,  the  brewers  were  restrained  by  sututc  fh>m  making 
any  more  sorts  or  kinds  of  beer  than  two,  the  strong  and  the 
double ;  and  it  was  ordered  that  the  same  should  be  sold  after  the 
rate  of  and  price  of  6s.  8d.  the  barrel  of  the  best,  and  36.  4d.  the 
barrel  of  double  beer  or  ale,  and  not  above. 

Beer,  though  now  popular  abroad,  was  not  alwa3rs  so,  but 
amongst  the  Normans  it  was  difterent,  as  is  shewn  by  the  copy  of 
a  song  of  the  thirteenth  century,  under  the  name  of  Letabundus, 
in  which  this  stanza  occurs  : — 

"  Or  hi  parra 
La  corveyse  vos  chanteres  : 

Alleluia 
Qui  que  aukes  en  beyt. 
Si  tel  seyt  comme  estre  doit : 

Ros  Miranda." 

At  the  assessment  of  the  prices  to  be  paid  for  the  ale  and  beer 
supplied  to  the  English  army  besieging  Rouen  (6  Henry  V., 
1 41 8),  ^  It  was  ordered  that  the  brewers  of  ale  that  was  presented 
to  our  Lord  the  King,  at  the  siege  of  the  city  of  Roan,  should 


History.  49 

hxft  far  cyeiy  tun  of  200  tuna  of  ale  30  shillings ;  and  that  the 
same  brewers  should  pay  for  the  vessels  holding  such  ale,  and  for 
the  hooping  of  such  vessels — making  in  all  ^300.  And  that  the 
biewers  of  here  should  have  13s.  4d.  for  every  tun  of  3cx> 
tmM»  making  ;^200."  By  the  13th  Edward  11.,  1320,  &ve 
**  regretors  "  (retailers)  were  forbidden  by  the  mayor  and  aldermen 
to  sell  ale  upon  London  Bridge  on  the  perils  which  pertain 
thereto. 

In  the  churchwarden's  accounts  of  Allhallows  Staining,  in 
which  paridi  the  Ironmongers'  Hall  stands,  the  following  entry 
occurs  for  the  year  1 494 : — **  Payd  for  a  kylcherkp  of  good  ale 
wech  was  drunkp  in  the  Irynmongers'  Hall,  all  charges  borne, 
1 2a.  id."  These  prices  seem  to  be  low  enough,  but  the  relative 
value  of  money  must  be  taken  into  consideration. 

In  1606  the  brewers  were  ordered  ^  not  to  brewe  any  beere 
but  good  beere,  and  wholesome  for  num's  bodie,"  and  to  sell  their 
"doble  beere"  at  3s.  4d.  the  barrel,  and  their  ''ordinarie  beere" 
at  2S.  per  barrel.  They  were  also  forbidden  to  carry  their 
^  beere  "  in  ''  iron-bound  carts,"  because  *<  it  tendeth  to  make  it 
worke  up  in  such  a  sorte  that  though  the  barrells  seem  to  be  fidl 
when  they  are  brought,  yet  when  they  are  settled,  they  lack  some 
a  gallon  of  beere,  to  the  enriching  of  the  brewer,  and  the  great 
defeat  and  hindrance  of  the  town." 

Mr.  Henry  W.  Taylor,  writbg  in  Notes  and  Queries^  says : — 
**  The  question  of  the  relative  value  of  ale  and  beer  in  the  present 
day  receives  some  illustration  from  a  comparison  of  the  terms  in 
use  for  the  same  article  by  our  forefathers,  as  shown  m  our 
municipal  records  four  hundred  years  since;  for  in  the  corporation 
accounts  for  this  town,  temf.  Hen.  VI.  &  VII«,  occur  the  follow- 
ing entries: — 


M 


*  1 432.  liem^  payd  to  Davy,  here  brewere, 
for  a  pyp  of  here  that  was  droncke 
at  the  Barryeate  when  the  flurst 
affray  was  of  the  ffrensheroen,    .       vj^  viij<l*' 

** Among  the  expenses  of  the  'law  day '  feast  at  < Cutthome 

D 


50  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

CroMe,'  on  the  official  perambulation  of  the  boundaries,  will  be 
found : — 


M  < 


1497.     Half  a  barrell  of  doble  here,         .  xx<L 

Half  a  barrellj3^ii^  dobyl  beere,     .  xij<l. 

Ten  galons  peny  ale,    ...  x<l* 

Ale  and  Bere,   ....  ij«.  viijd.* " 

The  similarity  of  these  distinctions  to  those  in  use  in  our  own 
day  (double  and  tieble  X)  is  somewhat  remarkable.  Among 
the  Eglinton  papers,  published  by  the  Historical  Manuscripts 
Commission,  are  many  which  bear  on  social  life  and  manners.  In 
illustration  of  the  drinking  habits  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Dr. 
Eraser  quotes  fix>m  the  household  account  of  the  sixth  Earl  of 
Eglinton  an  entry  of  the  consumption  of  ale  on  Thursday, 
November  26th,  1646: — ^^To  your  Lordship's  morning  drink, 
a  pynt ;  for  my  Ladie's  morning  drink,  i  pynt ;  to  your  Lord- 
ship's denner,  2  pynts;  mair,  3  pynts;  to  the  letter  meal,  2 
pyntis ;  efter  denner,  1  ppt ;  at  four  houres,  i  pjrnt ;  ane  other 
pynt ;  to  your  Lordship's  supper,  3  pptis,"  frc. 

A.D.  1345,  the  following  ordinance  that  brewers  shall  not 
waste  the  water  of  the  conduit  in  Chepe,  appears : — **  At  a  hustings 
of  Pleas  of  Land,  holden  on  the  Monday  next  before  the  feast 
of  St.  Margaret  the  Virgm  (20th  July),  in  the  19th  year  of  the 
reign  of  King  Edward  the  Third,  &c.,  it  was  shown  by  William 
de  Iford,  the  common  sergeant,  on  behalf  of  the  commonalty, 
that  whereas  of  old  a  certain  conduit  was  built  in  the  midst  of  the 
City  of  London,  so  that  the  rich  and  middling  persons  therein 
might  there  have  water  for  preparing  their  food,  and  the  poor  for 
their  drink  ;  the  water  aforesaid  was  now  so  wasted  by  brewers 
and  persons  keeping  brew-houses,  and  making  malt,  that  in  these 
modem  times,  it  will  no  longer  suffice  for  the  rich  and  middling, 
or  for  the  poor,  to  the  common  loss  of  the  whole  community. 
And,  for  avoiding  such  common  loss,  it  was  by  the  mayor  and 
aldermen  agreed,  with  the  assent  of  the  commonalty  thereto,  that 
such  brewers,  or  persons  keeping  brew-houses,  or  making  malt, 
shall  m  future  no  longer  presume  to  brew  or  make  malt  with  the 
water  of  the  conduit.     And  if  anyone  shall  hereafter  presume  to 


History.  51 

make  ak  with  the  water  of  the  conduit,  or  to  make  malt  with  the 
nme^  he  is  to  loae  the  tankard  or  tpe  with  which  he  shall  have 
carried  the  water  fiom  the  conduit,  and  4CXL  the  fint  time,  to 
the  oae  of  the  conamonalty ;  the  tankard  or  tyne  and  half  a  mark, 
the  aecood  time,  and  tos.,  and  further,  he  is  to  be  committed  to 
pnsoo,  at  the  discretion  of  the  mayor  and  aldermen,  there  to 


»» 


It  is  mteresting  to  note  the  alteration  of  meaning  which  the 
word  tankard  has  undergone  since  the  foregoing  order  was  pro- 
mulgated; in  those  days  the  tankard  was  a  lai^e  pail  or  tub, 
containing  about  three  gallons,  like  the  frustum  of  a  cone, 
and  hooped  around.  It  had  a  small  iron  handle  at  the  upper 
end,  and  being  fitted  with  a  bung,  or  stopple,  was  easily  carried 
on  the  shoulders. 

The  brewere  were  not  always  such  a  peaceable  law-abiding  set 
as  they  now  are;  for,  in  consequence  of  certain  disturbances, 
which  took  place  in  and  about  the  year  1198,  Edward  I.  issued 
a  mandate  to  the  effect,  that — ^^  Forasmuch  as  we  have  heard 
that  the  bakers  and  brewsters,  and  millers,  in  the  city  aforesaid,  do 
frequently  misconduct  tliemselves  by  night,  going  about  the  city 
with  swords  and  bucklers,  and  other  arms,  &c.,  we  of  our  counsel 
wishmg  to  apply  a  fitting  remedy  to  all  the  premises,  and  strike 
both  them  and  others  with  fear  of  so  offending,  do  command  you, 
and  strictly  enjoin,  that  you  will  so  chastise  such  bakers,  brewsters, 
and  misdoers,  with  corporal  punishments,  and  so  visit  other 
ofiences,  at  your  discretion,  that  they  may  excite  in  others  a  like 
fear  of  so  offending,"  &c. 

Except  on  these  filibustering  expeditions,  there  was  great 
rivalry  and  jealousy  between  the  baker  and  the  brewer  as  to  pre- 
cedence, except  when  they  were  each  condenmed  to  the  piUory, 
and  peked  impartially  with  rotten  eggs,  dead  cats,  and  other  elec- 
tion finrours — then  fellow-feeling  made  them  wondrous  kind. 

**  The  Baker  says, « Pve  the  staff  of  life, 
And  you're  a  aUy  elf; ' 
The  Brewer  replied,  with  artful  pride, 
*  Why,  this  is  life  itself!'" 

D  a 


S2  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  old  proyerb  of  ^taking  a  roll  out  of  the  brewer's  basket  ^ 
explains  itself. 

Our  fbre&thers  regarded  ale  with  as  much  solicitude  as  bread ; 
they  were  equally  valued  as  necessaries  of  life ;  and  for  the  better 
regulatmg  their  prices,  various  statutes  or  assizes  {tusua  pami  et 
eerevuU)  were  from  time  to  time  passed. 

By  a  statute  of  the  Pillory  and  Tumbrel,  51  Henry  IIL, 
sL  6  (1267),  brewers  were  fined  for  the  first,  second,  and  third 
offences,  not  over-grierous  against  the  law  of  assize ;  but  if 
the  offence  was  often,  or  over-grievous,  the  brewer  was  con- 
demned to  the  tumbrel,  or  some  other  correction.  The  trade  of 
brewing,  in  the  City  of  London,  was  at  one  time  confined  almost 
wholly  to  women ;  hence  the  general  name  of  **  ale  wives,"  by 
which  they  were  known.  In  London,  none  but  freemen  were 
permitted  to  keep  ale  houses ;  and  they,  equally  with  those  in  the 
country,  were  subject  to  the  periodical  visitations  of  **  ale  conners  " 
or  imners^  whose  duty  it  was  to  inspect  the  measures,  and  taste  the 
quality  of  the  ale  sold,  and  see  that  it  was  in  accordance  with  the 
statute.  Four  ale  conners  were  appointed  for  the  metropolis, 
duly  chosen  each  Midsummer  Day  by  the  livery  men  in  Common 
Council  Hall  assembled,  at  which  time  the  price  was  regulated  for 
the  ensuing  year — e^g*^  by  James  L,  cap.  9,  one  fiill  quart  of  the 
best  or  two  quarts  of  small  ale  were  to  be  sold  for  one  penny. 

In  the  old  Court  Rolls  the  ale-tasters  or  ale-founders  are 
designated  guitaiora  eerevuU^  the  terms  commonly  used  in  the 
records  of  the  Court-Leet  During  the  Commonwealth,  when  the 
Rolls  of  the  New  Buckingham  Leet  Court  were  kept  m  English, 
these  officers  appear  under  the  name  of  ale-founders ;  and  this 
term  is  again  used  when  the  English  language  is  reintroduced  into 
the  English  Law  Courts.  In  the  country  these  officers  were 
appointed  by  the  Court-Leet.  Their  duties  and  fees  are  in- 
dicated in  the  following  paragraph  from  Dr.  Langbaine's  collec- 
tions, January  23,  161 7: — *^John  Shurle  had  a  patent  from 
Arthur  Lake,  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  and  Vice-Chancellor  of 
Oxford,  for  the  office  of  ale-taster  [to  the  University]]  and  the 
makmg  and  assizing  of  barrels  of  beer.  The  office  of  ale  tasting 
requires  that  he  go  to  every  ale-brewer  that  day  they  brew, 


History.  53 

to  their  courses,  and  taste  their  ale;  for  which,  his 
ancient  fee  is  one  gallon  of  strong  ale  and  two  gallons  of  small 
wort,  worth  a  penny." — Retiqtut  Heamlans^  i.,  38. 

Later  on  we  find  some  of  these  officers  had  greatly  scandalised 
the  good  people  of  Glasgow,  who,  determining  to  make  a  dead  set 
ag^unst  the  town  officers  getting  more  buns  and  ale  at  the  expense 
of  the  public,  issued  the  following  proclamation  on  the  12th 
April  1757  : — *<The  whilk  day,  and  considering  that  the  town 
officers  have  been  in  use  to  get  buns  and  ale  iq>on  the  day  on 
which  the  Lords  of  the  Council  come  to  town,  by  which  sundry 
abuses  have  happened,  and  for  remedying  whereof,  in  time 
coming,  the  Magistrates  and  Counsell  onlain,  that  for  hereafter, 
the  officers  be  allowed  one  shilling  sterling  at  each  time  the 
Lords  come  to  town  at  the  Circuit." 

•*When  we  reflect,"  says  Dr.  Strang,  "on  the  notoriously 
bibulous  faculties  of  these  functionaries,  we  may  conclude  that 
thiis  enactment  must  have  proved  to  them  of  no  light  grievance." 

The  following  charges  appear  in  the  household  expenses  of 
King  Henry  VI XL: — "  The  queen's  maids  of  honour  to  have  a 
chet  loaf,  a  manchet,  a  gallon  of  ale,  and  a  chine  of  beef  for 
their  breakfast."  The  brewer  is  informed  not  to  put  any  hops  or 
brimstone  in  the  ale.  In  Elizabeth's  time,  beer  was  divided  into 
single  beer,  or  small  beer,  double  beer,  double-double  beer,  and 
dagger  ale,  which  was  particularly  sharp  and  strong.  Dagger  ale 
was  m  great  request,  and  was  sold  at  a  house  in  Holbom,  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  ale  of  Burton  was,  about  the  same  period,  at 
the  Peacock,  in  Gray's  Inn  Lane.  The  ''  Dagger "  was  for 
many  years  a  celebrated  ordinary  and  public-house;  it  was 
frequented  m  the  day,  like  most  places  of  the  kind,  by  the  better 
class,  but  at  night  was  the  resort  of  low  gamblers  and  cozeners. 

**  My  lawyer's  derke  I  lighted  on  last  night 
In  Holbum,  at  The  Dagger." 

Ben  Jonson,  Alchymut^  a.  i,  s.  I. 

The  pies,  the  furmenty,  and  other  dainties  provided  for  the  guests 
at  "  The  Dagger,"  were  in  high  repute.  ^  A  Dagger  pie  "  was 
always  spoken  of  with  much  relish ;  but  the  ale,  here  drawn,  was 


54  I^  Praise  of  Ale. 

celebrated  for  its  strength : — **  This  thy  descriptton  of  Dagger  ale 
augmenteth  my  thirst  until  I  taste  thereof" — Ulp.  Fulwell. 

^  Sack  makes  men  from  words 

Fall  to  drawing  of  swords» 
And  quarrelling  endeth  their  quaffing  ; 

Whilst  Dagger  ale  barrels 

Bear  off  many  quarrels. 
And  often  turn  chiding  to  laugjhing." 

There  was  also  a  choice  kind  brewed*  principally  by  the 
higher  classes,  called  March  ale,  from  being  brewed  in  that 
noonth,  and  was  scarcely  fit  for  table  until  two  years  old.  A 
cup  of  choice  ale,  with  spices  and  sugar,  and  sometimes  a  toast, 
stirred  up  with  a  sprig  of  rosemary,  was  a  draught  for  a  queen. 
Decker,  in  hb  *<  Satiromastix/'  mentions  these  various  kinds  of 
ale : — ^  But  we  must  have  March  here,  dooble,  dooble  here, 
Dagger  ale,  Rhenish.'' 

Up  to  this  time  we  have  ample  records  b  the  **  Buttery  Rolls  " 
of  many  a  noble  house,  where  herrings,  and  beef,  and  ale  formed 
the  sound  substantial  morning  meal  of  ladies  of  rank  and  their 
families,  when  "  nerves "  were  unknown,  and  ''  vapours  "  never 
heard  of. 

During  this  period  we  find  beer  was  rising  m  estimation. 
Alarmed  by  the  increase  of  alehouses,  the  Lord  Mayor,  aided  by 
the  magistrates  of  Lambeth  and  Southwark,  suppressed  above  two 
hundred  of  them  within  their  jurisdiction  in  1 574;  and  the  example 
was  followed  by  Westminster,  and  other  places  round  London. 

According  to  the  Hospital  Records  of  St.  Thomas,  dating 
(irom  1570  to  1574,  we  find  that  in  condderation  of  the 
<<  bote  tyme  of  the  year  the  poor  shall  have  allowed,  every  one  a 
day,  three  pptts  of  here  for  two  months — a  quart  at  dinner  and 
a  pint  at  supper — and  at  the  end  of  two  months  their  olde  ordi- 
nary allowance,  which  is  one  quarte." 

During  the  Protectorate  the  brewers  were  held  up  to  great 
ridicule  by  the  Cavaliers,  in  consequence  of  Cromwell  having 
been  the  son  of  a  brewer;  whilst  Pride  had  followed  the  same 
trade,  and  Hewson  and  Scott,  two  prominent  servants  of  the 


History.  55 

Lord  Protector,  had  also  been  brewer's  deriu.  The  *<  Songs  o' 
the  Rump,"  in  [consequence,  contain  innumerable  sarcastic  allu- 
sions to  the  trade. 

An  anonynx>us  writer,  in  the  ''  Annual  Register  "  for  1 760, 
enables  us  to  trace  the  progress  of  the  London  beer-trade  from 
the  Revolution  down  to  the  accession  of  George  III.  In  the 
beginning  of  Kmg  William's  reign  the  brewer  sold  his  brown  ale 
for  16s.  per  barrel ;  and  the  small  beer,  which  was  made  from 
the  same  grains,  at  6s.  per  barrel.  The  customers  paid  for  their 
beer  in  ready  money,  and  fetched  it  from  the  hrewhouse  them- 
selvet.  The  strong  beer  was  a  heavy  sweet  beer :  the  small,  with 
reverence  be  it  spoken,  was  little  better  than  the  washings  of  the 
tubs,  and  had  about  at  much  of  the  extract  of  malt  in  it,  as  the 
last  cup  of  tea  which  an  economical  housewife  pours  out  to  her 
guests  has  of  the  China  herb.  A  change  came  over  the  charac- 
ter of  the  London  beer  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  owing  to 
two  very  diHerent  causes :  the  duty  imposed  upon  malt  and  hops, 
and  taxes,  on  account  of  the  war  with  France  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  more  frequent  residence  of  the  gentry  in  London  on  the 
other.  The  duty  on  malt  exceeding  that  on  hops,  the  brewers 
endeavoured  at  a  liquor  in  which  more  of  the  latter  should  be 
used.  The  people,  not  easily  weaned  from  the  sweet  clammy 
drink  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed,  drank  ale,  mixed 
with  the  new-fikshioned  bitter  beer,  which  they  got  from  the 
victualler. 

From  an  early  period  ale  was  sold  to  the  people  m  houses  of 
entertainment,  as  it  is  at  present ;  a  priest  was  forbidden  by  law 
to  eat  or  drink  at  ceapeale  the  tum^  or  places  where  ale  was  sold. 

The  designation  <*  ale-house  "  first  occurs  in  the  laws  of  King 
Etbelred.  Malpractices  arose,  and  the  then  existing  regulations 
not  being  sufficient,  11  Henry  VII.,  c.  2  (1495)9  an  Act 
against  vagabonds  and  beggars  placed  ale-houses  under  the 
jurisdiction  of  justices  of  the  peace.  In  consequence  of  abuses 
and  disorders  in  ^common  ale-houses  and  tippling-houses,''  a 
more  stringent  enactment  was  made  by  4  and  5  Edward  VL, 
C  25  (1552);  and  this  statute  furnished  the  basis  of  future 
legislation  on  the  subject. 


56  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

.  In  the  GauUman^t  Magazine  for  17  J7  we  find  that  in  Scot- 
land an  ale-houae  keeper  waa  an  important  personage : — "  An 
ale-house  is  called  a  change^  and  the  person  who  keeps  it  a 
gentleman ;  nor  is  it  uncommon  to  see  a  lord  dismount  from  his 
horse,  and  taking  one  of  these  gentlemen  in  his  arms,  make  him 
as  many  compliments  as  if  he  were  a  brother  peer ;  and  the  reason 
is,  that  the  ale-houae  keeper  is  of  as  good  a  ^mily  as  any  in 
Scotland^  and  periiaps  has  uken  his  degree  as  Master  of  Arts  at 
the  UniTcrsity.'* 

Hospitality  has  always  been  an  English  virtue*  As  early  as 
1 1 70,  Negel  Wircker  records  the  doings  of  the  English  colony  of 
students  in  Paris,  of  whom  he  was  one,  in  elegant  Latinity,  of 
which  the  following  translation  will  suffice : — 

**  The  English  most  attrack  his  prying  eyes. 
Their  manners,  words,  and  looks  pronounce  them  wise. 
Theirs  is  the  open  hand,  the  bounteous  mind ; 
Theirs  solid  sense  with  sparkling  wit  combm'd. 
Their  graver  studies  jovial  banquets  crown ; 
Their  rankling  cares  in  flowing  bowls  they  drown." 

This  hospitable  virtue  was  continued  to  a  much  later  period, 
and  was  so  generally  practised  that  taverns  or  inns  where  payment 
was  to  be  made  were  unknown.  Indeed,  what  were  known  as 
mns  were  the  houses  of  the  nobility,  who  kept  open  house  for  all. 
For  the  poorer  class,  those  who  entertained  a  traveller  had  a  right 
to  a  similar  reception  at  his  hands.  James  I.  of  Scotland, 
however,  tried  to  dter  this  by  establishing  recognised  taverns  by 
Act  of  Pariiament,  A.D.  1424: — ^  It  is  ordanit,  that  in  all  burrow 
townis,  and  throachfairis  quhair  conunoun  passages  and  resetds, 
havand  stables  and  chalmers ;  and  that  men  find  with  same  bread 
and  aill  and  all  uther  fiide ;  alsweil  for  horse  as  men  for  reasonable 
price/'  But  travellers  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to.  generous 
hospitality  that  they  declined  to  patronise  taverns  on  compulsion. 
The  inns  were  neglected,  and  those  who  kept  them  presented  a 
petition  to  Parliament  complaining  **  that  the  liegis  traveUand  in 
the  realme  quhen  they  cum  to  burrowis  and  throuchfairis,  herbreis 
thame  not  in  hostillaries,  hot  with  their  acquaintance  and  freindis." 


History.  57 

Thii  peddoD  brought  forth  an  enactment  prohibiting  travellers  to 
lodge  in  private  houses  where  there  were  hostillaries,  under  a 
penalty  of  4O6. 

1  have  now  dealt  so  fully  with  beer  and  ale,  which  is  the 
apotheosis  of  barley,  malt,  and  hops,  that  I  cannot  do  better  than 
go  back  to  the  first  principles. 

John  Taylor,  the  water  poet,  who  flourished  1 584-1626,  and 
kept  a  public  in  Phoenix  Alley,  Long  Acre,  was  one  of  the  most 
prolific  and  graceful  writers  on  beer  of  his  age,  so  I  cannot  do 
better  than  draw  this  chapter  to  a  dose  with  his  panegyric  on 
ale:— 

**  Ale  is  rightly  called  nappy,  for  it  will  set  a  nap  upon  a  man's 
threadbare  eyes  when  he  is  sleepy.  It  is  called  merry-goe-downe, 
for  It  slides  down  merrily.  It  is  fragrant  to  the  scent;  it  is  most 
pleasant  to  the  taste;  the  flowing  and  mantling  of  it  (like  chequer 
work),  with  the  verdant  smile  of  it,  is  delightful  to  the  sight;  it 
is  touching  or  feeling  to  the  braine  and  heart;  and  to  please  the 
senses  all,  it  provokes  men  to  singing  and  mirth,  which  is  content^ 
iog  to  the  hearing.  The  speedy  uking  of  it  dothe  comfort  the 
heavy  and  troubled  minde ;  it  will  make  a  weeping  widow  laugh 
and  forget  sorrow  for  her  deceased  husband ;  it  is  truly  termed 
the  ^irit  of  the  budery,  for  it  puts  spirit  into  all  it  enters.  It 
makes  the  footman's  head  and  heeles  so  light  that  he  seems  to  fly 
as  he  runnes;  it  is  the  warmest  lining  of  a  naked  man's  coat;  it 
satiates  and  asstiages  hunger  and  cold ;  with  a  touste  it  is  the  poor 
man's  comfort;  the  shepheard,  mower,  plowman,  and  blacksmith's 
most  esteemed  purchase ;  it  is  the  tinker's  treasure,  the  pedlar's 
Jewell,  the  beggar's  joy,  and  the  prisoner's  loving  nurse;  it  will 
whet  the  wit  so  sharp  that  it  will  make  a  carter  talk  of  things 
beyond  his  reach ;  it  will  set  a  bashful  suitor  a  wooing ;  it  heats 
the  chill  blood  of  the  aged;  it  will  cause  a  man  to  speak  past  his 
owne  or  any  other  man's  capacity  of  understanding;  it  sets  an 
edge  upon  logick  and  retorick;  it  is  a  friend  to  the  muses,  it 
inspires  the  poore  poet  that  cannot  compasse  the  price  of  Canarie 
or  Gascoigne;  it  mounts  the  musician  above  Ecla;  it  makes  the 
ballad-maker  rime  beyond  reason ;  it  is  a  repasser  of  decaied  colour 
in  the  face;  it  puts  eloquence  into  the  oratour,  it  will  make  the 


58  In  Praise  rf  Ak. 

philosopher  talk  profbundlyy  the  scholar  learnedly,  and  the  lawyer 
acutely  and  feelingly.  Ale  at  Whitsuntide,  or  a  Whitsun  church 
ale,  is  a  repairer  of  decayed  country  churches;  it  is  a  great  firiend 
to  the  truth,  for  they  that  drink  of  it  (to  the  purpose)  will 
rereale  all  they  knowe,  be  it  never  so  secret  to  be  kept.  It  is  an 
emblem  of  justice,  for  it  allows  and  yields  measure;  it  will  put 
courage  into  a  coward  and  make  him  swagger  and  fight;  it  is  a 
seale  to  many  a  goode  bargaine;  the  physician  will  commend  it ; 
the  lawyer  will  defend  it;  it  neither  hurts  nor  kills  any  but  those 
who  abuse  it  unmeasurably  and  beyond  bearing;  it  doth  good  to 
as  many  as  take  it  rightly;  it  is  as  good  as  a  paire  of  spectacles  to 
deare  the  eyesight  of  an  old  parish  clarke ;  and,  in  conclusion,  it 
is  such  a  nourisher  of  mankinde,  that  if  my  mouthe  were  as  bigge 
as  Bishop^te,  my  pen  as  long  as  a  may-pole,  and  my  inke  a 
flowing  ^nring  or  a  standing  fishpond,  yet  I  could  not,  with  mouth, 
pen,  or  inke,  speake  or  write  the  true  worthinesse  of  ale/' 

This  is  certainly  a  pretty  good  prose  epic  in  laudation  of  ale 
on  the  part  of  the  water  poet. 

The  popularity  of  beer  is  shown  by  the  variety  of  endearing 
terms  by  which  it  is  known  in  various  parts  of  the  country. 
Here  are  a  few,  but  the  list  is  far  from  being  an  exhaustive  one. 

According  to  the  D'Urfey  songs  we  have  the  following 
favourite  ales:  Lambeth  ale,  mum,  stttchback,  cyder,  college 
ale.  North  Down,  Old  Pharaoh  (which  betrays  the  Eastern 
origin  of  ale),  March  beer,  October,  China  ale,  radish  ale,  Darby, 
Canterbury,  winding  up  with  <<a  pint  of  purl  for  Harrison;" 
then  ''  Humming  Ale,''  Huff  Cup,  nippitate,  supernaculum. 

''  Ponfumo.  My  father  oft  will  tell  me  of  a  drink 
In  England  found,  and  nipitate  call'd, 
Which  driveth  all  the  sorrow  from  your  hearts. 

**  Ralph.  Lady  'tis  true;  you  need  not  lay  your  lips 
To  better  nipitate  than  there  is." 

— Kfttgbt  of  the  Burning  Pestle. 

In  "The  Weakest  goes  to  the  Wall,"  we  have:  "Well  fare 
England,  where  the  poore  may  have  a  pot  of  ale  for  a  penny ; 
fresh  ale,  finine  ale,  nappie  ale,  nippitate  ale." 


History.  59 

In  addition  to  D'Urfey,  yii  m  Scotland  and  yell  in  the  south  of 
England,  swanky  and  swipes  for  small  beer,  pongelo,  stingo, 
October,  barley  bree,  and  barley  broth — as  Shakespeare  puts  it: — 

**  Can  sodden  water,  their  barley  broth. 
Decoct  their  cold  blood  to  such  valiant  heat?" 

Bloomfield  celebrates  the  ^'Horkey  "  beer: 

**  And  Fanner  Cheerum  went,  good  man, 
And  broach'd  the  Horkey  beer^ 
And  iiub  a  mort  of  folks  began 
To  eat  up  our  good  cheer/' 

Jeannie  Deans,  in  the  <^ Heart  of  Midlothian,''  says  to  her  fither: 
^  I  learned  from  a  decent  woman,  a  grazier's  widow,  that  they 
hae  a  cure  for  the  muir-ill  m  Cumberland,  whilk  is  ane  pint,  as 
they  ca't  of  yill^  whilk  is  a  drabble  in  comparison  of  our  gawsie 
Scot's  pint,  and  hardly  a  mutchkin,  boil'd  wi'  sope  and  hartshorn 
dnps,  and  toomed  down  the  creature's  throat  wi'  ane  horn." 

In  his  ''Pennyless  Pilgrim,"  written  in  1618,  Taylor  enume- 
rates some  varieties  of  ale  he  sampled  at  Manchester. 

^  How  merry  Manchester  did  use  me  well. 
Their  lives  to  me  on  tenter-hooks  did  rack; 
Roast,  boiled,  baked,  too-too-much  white  claret  sack, 
Nothing  they  thought  too  heavy  or  too  hot. 
Can  followed  can,  and  pot  succeeded  pot. 
But  what  they  could  do,  all  they  thought  too  little. 
Striving,  in  love,  the  traveller  to  whittle. 
We  went  into  the  house  of  one  John  Pinners 
(A  man  that  lives  among  a  crew  of  sinners). 
And  there  eight  several  sorts  of  ale  we  had. 
All  able  to  make  one  stark  drunk  or  mad. 
But  1,  with  courage,  bravely  flinched  not. 
And  gave  the  town  leave  to  discharge  the  shot. 
We  had  at  one  time  set  upon  the  table 
Good  ale  of  hyssop— 'twas  no  iEsop's  fable: 
Then  had  we  ale  of  sage,  and  ale  of  malt. 
And  ale  of  wormwood,  that  could  make  one  halt; 


6o  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

With  ale  of  rosemary,  and  betony. 
And  two  ales  more,  else  I  needs  must  lie. 
But  to  conclude  this  drtnking-aley-tale» 
We  had  a  sort  of  ale  called  scurvy  ale." 

Medieral  writers  frequently  mention  the  word  Dommgo  in 
connection  with  ale.     Bratwahhe  (Drunken  Bamaby)  says: 

^  TThere  he  sat  and  took  some  stingo. 
Next  a  Butcher  and  Dominga" 

The  few  words  of  the  song  which  Silence  sings  in  company 
with  Justice  Shallow  and  Falstaff*  do  not  throw  much  light  on 
the  n^eaning  of  the  above  word.  The  refrain  Shakespeare  makes 
use  of  is  ^m  a  song  which  appears  in  ''  Letting  of  humours 
blood  in  the  head  vain/'  i6cx>: — 

^  Monsieur  Domingo  is  a  skilful  man, 

For  much  experience  he  hath  lately  got. 
Proving  more  physic  in  an  alehouse  can 

Than  may  be  found  in  any  vintner's  pot: 
Beere,  he  protests,  is  sodden  and  refin'd, 
And  this  he  speaks,  being  single  penny  lin'd. 


«< 


For  when  his  purse  is  swolne  but  sixpence  big, 

Why,  then  he  swears — Now,  by  the  Lord,  I  thinke 

All  beere  in  Europe  is  not  worth  a  iigge; 
A  cup  of  claret  is  the  only  drinke. 

And  thus  his  praise  from  beere  to  wine  dothe  goe. 

Even  as'  his  purse  in  pence  doth  ebbe  and  flowe." 


6i 


CHAPTER   III.  4 


CAROLS  AND  WASSAIL  SONGS. 

**  Caroif  carol  gmfy^  carol  on  our  wayP 

Thi  eariiest  ale  and  beer  songs  were  the  Christinas  carols,  and 
those  songs  that  celebrated  the  most  important  Christian  festi- 
?al  in  the  whole  year,  when  the  religious  and  secidar  festivities 
were  kept  up  frequently  beyond  Twelfth  Day,  even  until  St. 
Distaff's  Day,  when  work  was  partially  resumed. 

^  Partly  work  and  pardy  play 
You  must  on  St.  Distaff's  Day — 
From  the  plough  soon  free  your  teame ; 
Then  come  home  and  fother  them. 
If  the  maids  a  spinning  goe, 
Bum  the  flax  and  fire  the  tow, 
Scorch  the  pkckets,  but  beware 
That  ye  sbge  no  maiden  hair. 
Bring  in  pails  of  water,  then 
Let  the  maids  bewash  the  men ; 
Give  St.  Distaff  all  the  right, 
Then  bid  Christmas  sport  good-night. 
And  next  morrow  every  one 
To  his  own  vocatione." 

The  guests  departed,  and  the  b'ghts  were  turned  down  until 
Whitsuntide;  meantime  the  burthen,  troubles,  and  routine  of 
daily  life  were  resumed. 

Pope  Gregory  was  anxious  to  convert  the  heathen  feasts  into 
Christian  festivals,  as  is  shown  by  his  letter  to  Melitus,  a  British 


62  In  Praise  cf  Ale, 

Abbot  —  **  Whereas  the  people  were  accustomed  to  sacrifice 
many  oxen  m  honour  of  cbemons,  let  them  celebrate  a  religious 
and  solenm  festival,  and  not  slay  the  animals  diabolo,  to  the  devil, 
but  to  be  eaten  themselves,  ad  laudem  Dei,  to  the  praise  of  God, 
and  to  celebrate  the  feast  with  thanksgiving  and  prayer." — Bede's 
«  Ecdes.  History." 

A  modem  version  of  Herrick  embodies  that  sentiment: — 

**  Tis  Thou  that  crown'st  my  glittering  hearth 

With  guiltlesse  mirth, 
And  giv*st  me  wassaile  bowles  to  drink. 

Spiced  to  the  brink: 
Lord,  'tis  Thy  plenty-droppmg  hand 

That  soiles  my  land; 
And  giv'st  me  for  my  bushell  sowne. 

Twice  ten  for  one." 

The  Wassail,  New  Year,  Twelfth  Night,  and  Handsel  Mon- 
day observances,  all  became  affiliated  to  the  Christmas  fintivities, 
which  were  kept  up  with  vigour  by  all  classes  for  about  a  fort- 
night, and  carol  and  wassail  songs  were  in  full  swing.  Beck- 
with,  writing  in  1 784,  states,  that  **  in  Yorkshire  the  festival  of 
Christmas  was  held  for  twenty  days,  and  some  persons  extended 
it  to  Candlemas."  Of  course  the  Wasssul  observances  are  in- 
cluded in  these  Christmas  festivities  of  which  this  formed  a  part. 
In  the  Glossary  to  the  Exmoor  Dialect,  Wassail  is  defined  as  **  a 
drinking  song  on  Twelfth  Day  eve,  throwing  toast  on  apple  trees 
in  order  to  have  a  fruitful  year,  which  seems  to  be  a  relic  of  the 
heathen  sacrifice  to  Pomona." 

In  some  remote  place  the  yule-log  still  blazes  in  the  chimney 
of  the  rusdc  at  Christmas  eve,  under  the  different  appellations  of 
Christmas-stock,  log-block,  &c.  The  wassail  was  regularly 
carried  from  door  to  door  in  Cornwall  forty  or  fifty  years  ago ; 
and  even  now  a  measure  of  flip,  ale,  or  porter,  and  sugar,  or 
some  such  beverage,  is  handed  round  while  tlie  yule-log  is  burn- 
ing— or  stock,  as  it  is  denominated  in  the  western  counties.  The 
wassai)  bowl  is  of  Saxon  origin,  and  merits  notice  on  account  of 
the  well-known  story.     Vortigem,  prince  of  the  Silures,  fell  in 


Carols  and  Wassail  Songs.  63 

lore  with  Rowena,  the  niece  of  Hengist.  She  presented  the 
prince  with  a  bowl  of  spiced  wine,  saying  in  Saxon,  ^  Waes 
heal  Hlafbrd  Cyning."  which  signifies,  "  Be  of  health,  lord  king." 
Vortig^ni  married  her,  and  thus  his  kingdom  fell  to  the  Saxons. 
Robert  of  Gloucester  celebrates  the  erent: — 

**  Kuteshire  and  sitte  hire  adoune,  and  glad  drink  hire  heil, 
And  that  was  m  this  land  the  Verst,  *  Washail,' 
As  in  the  language  of  Saxyone  that  we  might  evere  i'  wite. 
And  so  well  he  paieth  the  fole  about,  that  he  is  not  yet 
TOfgute." 

Waesheil  thus  became  the  name  of  the  drinking  cups  of  the 
Anglo-Saxons ;  and  those  cups  were  afterwards  in  constant  use. 
However  our  ancestors  carolled  gaily  and  wassailled  freely  in  due 
season.  The  following  are  some  of  the  lays  that  were  chanted. 
According  to  our  lights,  some  of  these  appear  somewhat  irrever- 
ent, but  they  unquestionably  represented  the  feelmgs  of  the  times 
at  which  they  were  composed. 

The  first  one  is  taken  from  the  Cotton  MS.  (beginning  of  the 
sixteenth  century)  in  the  British  Museum,  and  is  there  intituled 
^  A  Christenmasse  Carol  " : — 

A  bone,  God  wot ! 

Sticks  in  my  throat — 
Without  I  have  a  draught 

Of  comie  ale, 

Nappy  and  stale, 
My  life  lies  in  great  waste. 

Some  ale  or  beer. 

Gentle  butler. 
Some  liquor  thou  us  show. 

Such  as  thou  mash 

Our  throats  to  wash. 
The  best  were  that  you  brew. 

Saint,  master,  and  knight 
That  Saint  Malt  hight. 


64  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Were  pressed  between  two  stones  ; 

The  sweet  humour 

Of  his  liquor 
Would  make  us  smg  at  once. 

Master  Wortley, 

I  dare  well  say — 
I  tell  you  as  I  think  — 

Would  not,  I  say, 

Bid  us  this  day. 
But  that  we  should  have  drink. 

His  men  so  tall 

Walk  up  his  hall 
With  many  a  comely  dish ; 

Of  hb  good  meat 

I  cannot  eat. 
Without  I  drink,  I  wis. 

Now  give  us  drink, 

And  let  cat  wink, 
I  tell  you  all  at  once, 

It  sticks  so  sore 

I  may  sing  no  more. 
Till  I  have  drunken  once. 

The  next  appears  m  ^  Ritson's  Collection  " : — 

**  God  bless  the  master  of  this  house. 
The  mistress  also, 
And  all  the  litde  children 
That  round  the  table  go, 

"  And  all  your  kin  and  kinsfolk. 
That  dwell  both  far  and  near ; 
I  wish  you  »  merry  Christmas, 
And  a  happy  New  Year.'* 


Carols  and  Wassail  Songs.  65 

Mr.  Llewellyn    Jewitt,  in   his  collection  of  Derby  songs, 
shows  that  a  spirit  of  thankfulness  prevailed : — 

^The  morrow  when  Mass  had  been  said  in  the  Chappell, 
Six  Tables  were  covered  in  the  Hall  1 
And  in  comes  the  Squire  and  makes  a  short  speech : 
It  was,  *  Neighbours,  you  are  welcome  all ; 

" '  But  not  a  Man  here  shall  taste  my  March  Beer 
Till  Christmas  Carroll  be  sung.' 
Then  all  dapt  their  Hands  and  they  shouted  and  sung 
Till  the  Hall  and  the  Pariour  did  ring. 

^  Now  Mustard,  Brawn,  Roast  Beef,  and  Plumb  Pies 
Were  set  upon  every  Table: 
And  noble  George  Gamwell  said,  '  Eat  and  be  merry. 
And  drink  as  long  as  you're  able.'* 

**  When  dinner  was  ended  his  Chaplain  said  grace, 
And  *  Be  merry,  my  Friends,'  said  the  'Squire ; 
*  It  rains  and  it  blows,  but  call  for  more  Ale, 
And  lay  some  more  wood  on  the  fire.' " 

And  so  they  did.  *<  The  Trusby  Hunting  Song  "  ends  with 
the  following  appropriate  verse : 

^  Now,  Gallants,  I  bid  you  Farewell, 
For  fear  I  your  Patience  have  tyr'd ; 
And  hie  for  a  Glass  of  good  AJe, 
That  Poetry  may  be  admired." 

Then  there  was  the  time-honoured  toast : — 

<'  A  m^rry  Christmas  and  a  happy  New  Year." 

The  above  was  generally  the  prelude  to  the  good  things  that 
the  householder  was  expected  to  provide.  The  date  of  the  next 
is  given  by  Mr.  Chappell  as  1642. 

E 


66  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

All  You  that  are  Good  Fellows. 

All  you  that  are  good  fellows. 

Come  hearken  to  my  song ; 
I  know  you  do  not  hate  good  cheer. 

Nor  liquor  that  is  strong. 
I  hope  there  is  none  here 

But  soon  will  take  my  part. 
Seeing  my  master  and  my  dame 

Say  welcome  with  their  heart 

This  is  a  time  of  jo3rfulness. 

And  merry  time  of  year, 
When  as  the  rich  with  plenty  stor'd 

Do  make  the  poor  good  cheer. 
Plum-porridge,  roast  beef,  and  minc'd  pies, 

Sund  smoking  on  the  board; 
With  other  brave  varieties 

Our  master  doth  afford. 

Our  mistress  and  her  cleanly  maids 

Have  neatly  play'd  the  cooks; 
Methinks  these  dishes  eagerly 

At  my  sharp  stomach  looks. 
As  though  they  were  afraid 

To  see  me  draw  my  blade; 
But  I  revenged  on  them  will  be, 

Until  my  stomach's  stay'd. 

Come  fill  us  of  the  strongest, 

Snudl  drink  is  otrt  of  date; 
Methinks  I  shall  fare  like  a  prince, 

And  sit  in  gallant  state: 
This  is  no  miser's  feast. 

Although  that  things  be  dear; 
God  grant  the  founder  of  this  feast 

Each  Christmas  keep  good  cheer; 


Carob  and  Wassail  Songs.  67 

This  day  for  Christ  we  celebrate, 

Who  was  bom  at  thb  time; 
For  which  all  Christians  should  rejoice. 

And  I  do  sing  in  rhyme. 
When  you  have  given  thanks. 

Unto  your  dainties  hlL 
Heay'n  bless  my  master  and  my  dame; 

Lord  bless  me  and  you  all. 

The  next  extract,  firom  an  old  baUad,  was  at  one  time  yery 
popular.  It  is  given  in  the  Pepys'  CoUection,  printed  for  P. 
Brooksby  and  licensed  by  Roger  L' Estrange,  entitled  **Old 
CHaisTMAs  Returned^  oa  HospiTAurr  Reyited;  being  a 
looking-glass  for  rich  misers,  wherein  they  may  see  (if  they  be 
not  blind)  how  much  they  are  to  blame  for  their  penurious 
housekeeping;  and  likewise  an  encouragement  to  those  noble- 
minded  gentry  who  lay  out  a  great  part  of  their  estate  in 
hotpbditie  rdiering  such  persons  as  have  need  thereto : 

*  Who  feasts  the  poor,  a  true  reward  shall  find. 
Or  helps  the  old,  the  feeble,  lame,  or  blind'  ** 

The  tune,  as  given  by  Mr.  ChappeU,  is  named  the  *^  Delights  of 
the  Bottle." 

**  All  you  that  to  feasting  and  mirth  are  inclined, 
Come,  here  is  good  news  for  to  pleasure  your  mind. 
Old  Christmas  is  come  for  to  keep  open  house; 
He  scorns  to  be  guilty  of  starving  a  mouse : 
Then  come,  boys,  and  welcome,  of  diet  the  chief. 
Plum-pudding,  goose,  capon,  minc'd  pies,  and  roast  beef. 

**  The  times  were  ne'er  good  since  Old  Christmas  was  fled. 
And  all  hospitality  hath  been  so  dead ; 
No  minh  at  our  festivals  late  did  appear. 
They  scarcely  would  part  with  a  cup  of  March  beer. 
But  now  you  shall  see  for  the  ease  of  your  grief, 
Plum-pudding,  goose,  capon,  &c.,  &c. 

S  2 


68  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

^  The  butler  and  baker,  they  now  may  be  glad, 
The  times  they  are  mended,  though  they  have  been  bad. 
The  brewer,  he  likewise  may  be  of  good  cheer. 
He  shall  have  good  trading  for  ale  and  strong  beer. 
All  trades  shall  be  jolly,  and  have  for  relief, 
Plum-pudding,  goose,  capon,  5cc.,  &c. 

^  Those  that  have  no  com  at  the  cards  for  to  play. 
May  sit  by  the  fire,  and  pass  time  away. 
And  drink  off  their  moisture,  contented  and  free; 
My  honest  good  fellow,  come,  here  b  to  thee; 
And  when  they  are  hungry,  fall  to  their  relief, 
Plum  pudding,  goose,  capon,  &c.,  &c. 

**  Then  well  may  we  welcome  Old  Christmas  to  town. 
Who  brings  us  good  cheer  and  good  liquor  so  brown, 
To  pass  the  cold  winter  away  with  delight, 
We  feast  it  all  day,  and  we  frolic  all  night. 
Both  hunger  and  cold  we  keep  out  with  relief, 
Plum  pudding,  goose,  cqx>n,  &c.,  &c.'* 

Bamfyldes'  poem,  though  it  can  scarcely  be  called  a  carol, 
deserves  a  place  among  Christmas  poetry  :-=- 

<<  With  footstep  slow,  in  furry  pall  yclad. 

His  brows  enwreathed  with  holly  never  sere, 
Old  Christmas  comes,  to  close  the  wained  year; 

And  aye  the  shepherd's  heart  to  make  right  glad ; 

Who,  when  his  teenung  flocks  are  homeward  had, 
To  blazing  hearth  repairs,  and  nut-brown  beer. 
And  views  well  pleased  the  ruddy  prattlers  dear 

Hug  the  grey  mungrel;  meanwhile  maid  and  lad 

Squabble  for  roasted  crabs.     Thee,  Sire,  we  hail, 
Whether  thine  aged  limbs  thou  dost  enshroud 

In  vest  of  snowy  white  and  hoary  veil, 
Or  wrap'st  thy  visage  in  a  sable  cloud; 

Thee  we  proclaim  with  mirth  and  cheer,  nor  fail 
To  greet  thee  well  with  many  a  carol  loud." 


rols  and  Wassail  Songs.  69 

The  song     .  Janus  alao  is  a  aong  of  welcome.     It  appeared 
originallyin «  Che  Thracian  Wonder,"  by  Webster  and  Rowley:— 

«  Now  does  jolly  Janus  greet  your  merriment; 
For  since  die  world's  creation 
I  never  changed  my  fashion ; 
'Tis  good  enough  to  fence  the  cold: 
My  hatchet  serves  to  cut  the  firing  yearly, 
My  bowl  preserves  the  juice  of  grape  and  barley; 
Fire,  wine,  and  strong  beer,  makes  me  live  so  long  here, 
To  give  the  merry  new  year  a  welcome  in. 

**  AU  the  potent  powers  of  plenty  wait  upon 
Yoo  that  intend  to  frolic  to-day: 
To  Bacchus  I  commend  ye,  and  Ceres  eke  attend  ye, 
To  keep  encroaching  cares  away. 
That  Boreas'  blast  may  never  blow  to  harm  you; 
Nor  Hiems'  frosts,  but  give  you  cause  to  warm  you : 
Old  fathtr  Janevere  drinks  a  health  to  all  here. 
To  give  the  merry  new  year  a  welcome  in." 


^  Those  who  at  Christmas  do  repine, 
And  would  fain  hence  despatch  him. 
May  they  with  old  Duke  Humphrey  dine, 
Or  else  may  Squire  Ketch  catch  'em.** 

According  to  Geo.  Wither,  even  Justices  suspended  business 
during  Christmas: — 

**  Now  poor  men  to  the  justices 

With  capons  make  their  errants; 
And  if  they  hap  to  fail  of  these, 

They  plague  them  with  their  warrants. 
But  now  they  feed  them  with  good  cheer, 
Acd  what  they  want,  they  take  in  beer, 
For  Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year, 
^  •"^  »h«i  thev  •»»a|l  h^  merry." 


Jo  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Grahame  has  caught  the  spirit  of  the  time  when  he  wrote: — 

**  Long  ere  the  lingering  dawn  of  that  blythe  mom 
Which  ushers  in  the  year,  the  roosting  cock. 
Flapping  his  wings,  repeats  his  'larum  shrill ; 
But  on  that  busy  mom  no  flail  obeys 
His  rousing  call — no  sounds  but  sounds  of  joy 
Salute  the  ear.     The  first-foot's  entering  step 
That  sudden  on  the  floor  is  welcome  heard. 
Ere  blushing  maids  have  braided  up  their  hair, 
The  laugh,  the  hearty  kiss,  the  <<  Good  New  Year," 
Pronounced  with  honest  warmth  in  village,  grange, 
And  barrow  town;  the  steaming  flagon  borne 
From  house  to  house,  elates  the  poor  man's  heart 
And  makes  him  feel  that  life  has  still  its  joys. 
The  aged  and  the  young,  man,  woman,  child. 
Unite  in  social  glee— even  stranger  dogs. 
Meeting  with  bristling  backs,  soon  lay  aside 
Their  snarling  aq>ect,  and  in  sportive  chase. 
Excursive  scour,  or  wallow  in  the  snow. 
With  sober  cheerfulness  the  grandam  eyes 
Her  offsprings  round  her  all  in  health  and  peace, 
And,  thankful  she  is  spared  to  see  this  day 
Return  once  more,  breathes  low  a  secret  prayer 
That  God  would  shed  a  blessmg  on  their  heads." 

The  next  two  or  three  songs  are  of  more  recent  date.  '<  Eng- 
land's Golden  Days  **  is  imprinted  as  being  published  by  T.  E. 
Porday,  St  Paul's,  which  would  fix  the  date  of  issue  about  thirty 
years  bacL  Purday  afterwards  removed  to  Holbora,  where  I 
knew  him  about  i86a 

England's  Golden  Days, 

I  sing,  but  'tis  an  English  song,  for  oh,  I  love  to  praise 
Each  custom  that  is  handed  down  from  England's  golden  days; 
Let  other  bards  praise  foreign  climes,  'tis  not  the  theme  for  me, 
Old  England  with  her  happy  hom#»«  n\s  inip«rrr'.  • 


7» 

-. cm  that  minscrei  taeiue  oau  ueiu-r  lunu  it5  lays, 

Than  nnging  to  a  merry  strain,  old  EDgland's  golden  days. 

I  lo?e  an  English  spring-time,  when  early  flowers  appear. 
The  soft  blue-bell  and  all  that  tell  the  opening  of  the  year; 
When  rosy  giris,  with  chestnut  curls,  peep  from  each  cottage  door, 
And  nature  in  her  green  array,  is  lovely  as  of  yore. 

I  do  not  deem  that  minstrel,  &c. 

For  scenes  of  beauty,  who  the  palm  to  foreign  climes  would 

yield. 
That  views  in  glorious  summer-time  an  English  harvest  field; 
Her  murmuring  rills,  her  fertile  hills,  her  rivers  clear  and  free. 
Oh,  there  is  not  a  fairer  scene  an  Englishman  can  see. 

I  do  not  deem  that  mmstrel,  &c. 

But  sturdy  winter  comes  at  last,  and  good  old  Christmas  cheer, 

In  huts  and  halls  proclaims  to  all  the  season  of  the  year; 

The  peasant  with  his  home-brew'd  ale,  the  squire  with  good  old 

wine. 
In  universal  holiday  and  social  mirth  combine. 

I  do  not  deem  that  minstrel,  &c. 

Then  who  that  loves  old  England,  says  her  golden  days  are  o*er; 

Behold  her  commerce,  is  she  not,  as  prosperous  as  before; 

She  has  statesmen  wise,  and  heroes  brave,  to  fill  the  passmg 


And  as  in  England's  by-gone  days,  a  true-born  Britui  Queen, 

I  do  not  deem  that  minstrel,  &c. 


The  next  was  also  issued  by  T.  E.  Purday. 

Merkie  England. 

Oh!  why  was  England  merry  call'd,  I  pray  you  tell  me  why? 
Because  old  England  merry  was  in  merry  times  gone  by; 
She  knew  no  dearth  of  honest  mirth  to  cheer  both  son  and  sire. 
And  kept  it  up  o'er  wassail  cup  around  the  Christmas  fire. 


72  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

When  fields  were  dight  with  blossoms  white,  and  leaves  of  lively 

green, 
The  majrpole  rear'd  its  flowery  bead,  and  dancing  round  were  seen 
A  youthAil  band,  join'd  hand  in  hand,  with  shoon  and  buckles  trim. 
And  softly  rose  the  melody  of  Flora's  morning  hymn. 

Her  garlands  too  of  Taried  hue  the  merry  milkmaid  wove. 
And  Jack  the  piper  caprioled  within  his  dancing  grove. 
Will,  Friar  Tuck,  and  Little  John,  with  Robin  Hood  their  king. 
Bold  foresters!  blythe  choristers!  made  vale  and  mountain  ring. 

On  every  spray  blooms  lovely  May,  and  balmy  zephyrs  breathe. 
Ethereal  splendour  all  above,  and  beauty  all  beneath. 
The  cuckoo's  song,  the  woods  among,  sounds  sweetly  as  of  old. 
As  bright  and  warm  the  sunbeams  shine,  then  why  should  hearts 
grow  cold. 

The  following  gem  is  from  **  The  Old  Courtier,'*  temp.  Queen 
Anne: — 

<<  With  an  old  fashion  when  Christmas  was  come. 
To  call  in  his  neighbours  with  bagpipe  and  drum; 
And  good  cheer  enough  to  furnish  every  old  room, 
And  old  liquor  able  to  make  a  cat  speak  and  a  man  dumb." 


Old  Tusser  gives  similar  advice : — 

**  At  Christmas  be  merry  and  thankful  withal. 
And  feast  thy  poor  neighbours,  the  great  and  the  small.*' 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  our  ancestors  prolonged  the  festivities 
vigorously  at  Christmastide.  The  fun  went  htX,  and  furious,  and 
wassail  was  put  away — perhaps  not  wisely,  but  too  welL  They 
had  a  good  capacity:  their  appetites  were  not  vitiated  and 
destroyed  by  sherry  or  gm  and  bitters,  S.  and  B/s,  angostura,  or 
any  such  compounds.  The  following  lines  were  specially  in- 
tended for  Twelfth  Night,  and  are  taken  from  a  black  letter 


Carols  and  Wassail  Songs.  73 

coUection,  but  no  date  is  given.     The  tune  is  "  Gallants,  come 
away." 

A  Carol  for  a  Wasssl  Bowl. 

A  jolly  wassel  bowl, 

A  wassel  of  good  ale. 
Well  fare  the  butler's  soul 

That  setteth  this  to  sale ; 
Our  jolly  wassel. 

Good  dame,  here  at  your  door 

Our  wassel  we  begm; 
We  are  all  maidens  poor, 

We  pray  now  let  us  in. 
With  our  wassel. 

Our  wassel  we  do  fill 

With  apples  and  with  spice ; 

Then  grant  us  your  good  will 
To  taste  here  once  or  twice 
Of  our  good  wassel. 

If  any  maidens  be 

Here  dwelling  in  this  house. 

They  kindly  will  agree 
To  take  a  full  carouse 
Of  our  wassel. 

But  here  they  let  us  stand 

All  freezing  in  the  cold; 
Good  master,  give  conmiand 

To  enter,  and  be  bold. 
With  our  wassel. 

Much  joy  unto  this  hall 

With  us  is  entered  in ; 
Our  master,  first  of  all, 

Wc  hope  will  now  begin 
Of  our  wassel. 


74  /«  Praise  of  Ah. 

And  after,  his  good  wife 

Our  spic^  bowl  will  try; 
The  Lord  prolong  your  life, 

Grood  fortune  we  espy 
For  our  wassel. 

Some  bounty  from  your  hands. 

Our  wassel  to  maintam: 
Well  buy  no  house  nor  lands 

With  that  which  we  do  gain 
With  our  wassel. 

This  is  our  merry  night 

Of  choosing  king  and  queen, 

Then  be  it  your  delight 
That  something  may  be  seen 
In  our  wasseL 

It  is  a  noble  part 

To  bear  a  liberal  mind; 
God  bless  our  master's  heart, 

For  here  we  comfort  find 
With  our  wassel. 

And  now  we  must  be  gone. 
To  seek  out  more  good  cheer 

Where  bounty  wOl  be  shown, 
As  we  have  found  it  here, 
With  our  wassel. 

Much  joy  betide  them  all. 

Our  prajfers  shall  be  still, 
We  hope,  and  ever  shall. 

For  this  3rour  great  good  will 
To  our  wassel. 

According  to  the  Glossary  of  the  Exmore  Dialect,  <<  watsail 
is  a  drinking  song  on  Twelfth-day  Eve,  throwing  toast  on  the 


Carols  and  Wassail  Songs.  7S 

apple-treesy  io  order  to  ha?e  a  fruitful  year,  which  aeems  to  be  a 
relic  of  the  heathen  sacrifice  to  Pomona."  A  similar  and  more 
universal  custom  preraib  in  the  south»  where  the  labourers  pour 
a  small  quantity  of  beer  on  the  ground  before  drinking — the 
libation  to  mother  earth. 

The  Twelfth  ^ight  song  from  Herrick's  «« Hesperides,"  gives 
the  composition  of  lamb's  wool,  and  is  a  good  description  of 
observances  kept  up  on  that  night  when  cakes  and  ale  were  had 
in  combination: — 

**  Now,  now  the  mirth  comes. 

With  the  cake  full  of  plums, 
Where  beane's  the  king  of  die  sport  here 

Beside  we  must  know, 

The  pea  also 
Must  revell  as  queene  in  the  court  here. 

"  Begin  then  to  chuse. 

This  night  as  ye  use. 
Who  shall  for  the  present  delight  here; 

Be  a  king  by  the  lot. 

And  who  shaU  not 
Be  Twelve-day  queene  for  the  night  here. 

**  Which  knowne,  let  us  make 

Joy-sops  with  the  cake ; 
And  let  not  a  man  then  be  seen  here 

Who  unurg'd  will  not  drinke. 

To  the  base  from  the  brink, 
A  health  to  the  king  and  the  queene  here. 

^  Next  crowne  the  bowle  full 

With  gentle  lamb's-wooll ; 
Adde  sugar,  nutmeg,  and  ginger. 

With  store  of  ale  too; 

And  thus  ye  must  doe. 
To  make  the  wassaile  a  swinger. 


76  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

<<  Give  then  to  tlie  king 

And  queene  wassailiDg, 
And  though  with  ale  ye  be  whet  here, 

Yet  part  ye  from  hence. 

As  free  from  offence. 
As  when  ye  innocent  met  here/' 

The  next  wassailing  song  is  interestbg  as  showing  local  cus- 
toms; but  the  one  referred  to  is  not  peculiar  to  Gloucestershire, 
though  it  varies  slightly  in  different  counties.  *^  It  is  still  usual  in 
many  parts  of  England  to  hand  round  the  wassail,  or  health-bowl, 
on  New  Year's  Eve.  The  custom  is  supposed  to  be  of  Saxon 
origin,  and  to  be  derived  from  one  of  the  observances  of  the 
Feast  of  Yale.  The  following  is  a  universal  favourite  in  Glou- 
cestershire, particularly  in  the  neighbouriiood  of 

*  Stow-on-the-Wold, 
Where  the  winds  blow  cold,' 

as  the  old  rhyme  says." — Bell.  ^Wassel  or  wassail,"  says 
Stevens,  **  is  still  in  use  in  the  midland  counties,  and  it  signifies 
what  is  sometimes  called  lamb's  wool,  f.^.,  roasted  apples  in  strong 
beer,  with  sugar  and  spice.  It  is  sometimes  used  for  general  riots, 
intemperance,  or  festivity.  Ben  Jonson  personifies  wassel  thus: 
Enter  Wassel^  like  a  neat  sempster  and  songster,  her  page  bearing 
a  brown  bowl,  dressed  with  ribbons  and  rosemary,  before  her." 
By  the  way,  dog's  nose  is  a  tipple  that  one  hears  very  little  of  at 
the  present  day,  though  it  was  once  very  popular. 

<*  Wassail!  wassail!   all  over  the  town, 
Our  toast  it  is  white,  and  our  ale  it  is  brown ; 
Our  bowl  is  made  of  a  maplin  tree; 
We  be  good  fellows  all — I  drink  to  thee. 

'*  Here's  to  our  horse,  and  to  his  right  ear, 
God  send  our  measter  a  happy  new  year ; 
A  happy  new  year  as  e'er  he  did  see — 
With  my  wassailing  bowl  I  drink  to  thee. 


Carob  and  Wassail  Songs.  77 

**  Here's  to  oar  mare,  and  to  her  right  eye, 
God  aend  our  mistress  a  good  Christinas  pie; 
A  good  Christmas  pie  as  e'er  I  did  see — 
With  my  wassailing  bowl  I  drink  to  thee. 

'*  Here's  to  our  cow,  and  to  her  long  tail, 
God  send  our  measter  as  never  may  fail 
Of  a  cup  of  good  beer:  I  pray  you  draw  near. 
And  our  jolly  wassail  it's  then  you  shall  hear. 

**  Be  there  any  maids?     I  suppose  here  be  some; 
Sure  they  will  not  let  young  men  stand  on  the  cold  stone! 
Sing  hey,  O  maids!  come  trole  back  the  pin» 
And  the  fairest  maid  in  the  house  let  us  all  in. 

**  Come,  butler,  come,  bring  us  a  bowl  of  the  best ! 
I  hope  your  soul  in  heaven  will  rest ; 
But  if  you  do  bring  us  a  bowl  of  the  small, 
Then  down  £dl  butler,  and  bowl  and  all." 

Here  are  two  versions  of  one  of  the  oldest  wassail  songs 
extant  For  the  antique  edition  I  am  indebted  to  Notes  and  Queries 
for  December  1 860.  The  modernised  and  fuller  version  appears 
in  Mr.  Chappell's  Collection.  It  is  stated  that  the  ballad  was 
taken  from  a  broadside,  published,  without  date  or  printer's  name, 
about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

No.  I. 

**  Brynge  us  home  good  ale,  syr,  brynge  us  home  good  ale, 
And  for  our  der  lady,  lady  love,  brynge  us  som  good  ale. 
Brynge  us  home  no  beff,  syr,  for  that  is  full  of  bonys. 
But  brynge  home  goode  ale  y  nough,  for  that  my  love  alone  ys : 
Brynge  us  home  no  wetyn  brede,  for  y'  be  ful  of  branne; 
Nothyr  of  no  ry  brede,  for  y*  is  of  y*  same; 
Brynge  us  home  no  porke,  syr,  for  y'  is  verie  fatt; 
Nothyr  no  bariy  brede,  for  neyther  love  1  that; 


78  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Brynge  us  home  no  muton,  for  that  is  tough  and  lene; 

Neyther  no  trypys,  for  thei  be  seldyn  dene; 

Brynge  us  home  no  yeelly  syr,  that  do  I  not  desyr; 

But  brynge  us  home  good  ale  y  nough  to  drynke  by  y*  fyer; 

Brynge  us  home  no  syder,  nor  no  palde  wyne. 

For  and  y*  do  thow  shalt  have  Criste's  curse  and  mme." 

No.  IL 

*<  Bring  us  in  no  brown  bread,  for  that  is  made  of  bran. 
Nor  bring  us  in  no  white  bread,  for  therein  is  no  grain ; 
But  bring  us  in  good  ale,  and  bring  us  in  good  ale, 
For  our  blessed  lady's  sake,  bring  us  in  good  ale. 

**  Bring  us  in  no  beef,  for  there  is  many  bones. 
But  bring  us  in  good  ale,  for  that  go'th  down  at  once; 

But  bring  us  in,  &c. 

*<  Bring  us  in  no  bacon,  for  that  is  passbg  fiu. 
But  bring  us  in  good  ale,  and  give  us  enough  of  that. 

But  bring  us  in,  &c. 

"  Bring  us  in  no  mutton,  for  that  is  passing  lean,  ^ 
Nor  bring  us  in  no  tripes,  for  they  are  seldom  clean. 

But  bring  us  in^  &c. 

**  Bring  us  in  no  eggs,  for  there  are  many  shells, 
But  bring  us  in  good  ale,  and  giye  us  nothing  else. 

But  bring  us  in,  &c. 

"  Bring  us  in  no  butter,  for  there  are  many  hairs, 
Nor  bring  us  in  no  pig's  flesh,  for  that  will  make  us  bears. 

But  bring  us  in,  dec. 


c< 


Bring  us  in  no  puddings,  for  therein  is  all  God's  good. 
Nor  bring  us  in  no  venison,  that  is  not  for  our  blood. 

But  bring  us  in,  dec. 


M 


Carols  and  Wassail  Songs.  79 

Bring  us  m  DO  capoo's  fleshy  for  that  is  often  dear. 
Nor  bring  us  in  no  duck's  fleshy  for  they  slobber  in  the  mere 
(mire), 
But  bring  us  in  good  ale,  and  bring  us  in  good  ale. 
For  our  blessed  hdfa  sake,  bring  us  in  good  ale." 

The  next  is  reprinted  in  the  Percy  Society's  Collection,  vol. 
xxiiL  It  is  sung  by  Duiimulation  personatmg  Simon  of  Swiyn- 
sett,  when  oflering  the  poisoned  ale  to  the  kmg,  m  the  play  of 
Ktmgb  JoHiN.     The  date  is  about  i  $50. 

**  The  dayes  of  your  lyfe  neyer  fell  ye  suche  a  cuppe, 
So  good  and  so  holesome,  if  ye  would  drynke  it  upp: 
It  passeth  Malmesaye,  Capryck,  Tyre,  or  Ypocras; 
By  my  faythe  I  thynke  a  better  drynke  never  was. 

**  Wassayle,  wassayle,  out  of  the  milke  payle, 
Wassayle,  wassayle  as  whyte  as  my  nayle, 
Wassayle,  wassayle  in  snowe,  froste,  and  hayle, 
Wassayle,  wassayle  with  patriche  and  rayle, 
Wassayle,  wassayle  that  much  doth  arayle, 
Wassayle,  wassayle  that  never  will  fiiyle." 

Mr.  Beckwith  rebtes,  m  the  Genilenuufi  Magazme^  1 784,  that 
**  Near  Leeds,  in  Yorkshire,  when  he  was  a  boy,  it  was  customary 
for  many  fiimilies,  on  the  twelfth  eve  of  Christmas,  to  invite  their 
relations,  friends,  and  neighbours  to  their  houses,  to  play  at  cards 
and  to  partake  of  a  supper,  of  which  minced  pies  were  an  indis- 
pensable ingredient;  and  after  supper  was  brought  in  the  wassail 
cup  or  wassail  bowl,  of  which  every  one  partook  by  taking  with  a 
spoon  out  of  the  ale  a  roasted  apple  and  eating  it,  and  then  drinking 
the  healths  of  the  company  out  of  the  bowl,  wishing  them  a 
merry  Christmas  and  a  happy  New  Year.  (The  festival  of 
Christmas  used  in  this  part  of  the  country  to  hold  for  twenty 
days,  and  some  persons  extended  it  to  Candlemas.)  The  in- 
gredients put  into  the  bowl,  viz.,  ale,  sugar,  nutmeg,  and  roasted 
apples,  were  usually  called  lamb's  wool." 

The  next,  said  to  be  a  corruption  of  a  much  older  song,  was 


8o  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

taken   from  a  little  chapbook  printed  at  Manchester,  entitled 
^  A  Selection  of  Christmas  Hymns :'' — 

^  Here  we  come  a  wesseling. 
Among  the  leaves  so  green; 
Here  we  come  a  wandering. 

So  fair  to  be  seen. 
Love  and  joy  comes  to  you* 
And  to  your  wessel  too, 
And  God  send  you  a  happy  new  year, 

A  new  year, 
And  God  send  you  a  happy  new  year. 
Our  wessel  cup  is  made  of  the  rosemary  tree. 
So  is  your  beer  of  the  best  bariey. 

*<  We  are  not  daily  beggars, 

That  beg  from  door  to  door; 
But  we  are  neighbours'  children. 
Whom  you  haye  seen  before. 

Lore  and  joy,  &c. 

^  Call  up  the  butler  of  this  house, 
Put  on  his  golden  ring, 
Let  him  bring  us  up  a  glass  of  beer, 
And  the  better  we  shall  sing. 

Love  and  joy,  dec. 

*<  We  haye  got  a  little  purse 

Made  of  stretching  leather  skin. 
We  want  a  little  of  your  money 
To  line  it  well  within. 

Loye  and  joy,  dec. 

<<  Bring  us  out  a  table, 

And  spread  it  with  a  cloth. 
Bring  us  out  a  mouldy  cheese. 
And  some  of  your  Christmas  loaf. 

Love  and  joy,  &c. 


Carols  and  Wassail  Songs.  8 1 

**  God  bleu  the  master  of  this  house. 
Likewise  the  mistress  too. 
And  all  the  little  children 
That  round  the  table  go. 

Love  and  joy,  6cc. 

**  Good  master  and  mistress. 

While  you're  sitting  by  the  fire, 
Piay  think  of  us  poor  children. 

Who  are  wand'ring  in  the  mire. 
Lore  and  joy  come  to  you, 
And  to  your  wessel  too. 
And  God  send  you  a  happy  new  year, 

A  new  year. 
And  God  send  you  a  happy  new  year. 
Our  wessel  cup  is  made  of  the  rosemary  tree, 
So  is  your  beer  of  the  best  barley." 

The  toast  that  was  usually  drank  on  these  occasions  ran  some- 
what like  this: — 

**  A  pocket  full  of  money,  and  a  cellar  full  of  beer. 
We  wish  you  merrie  and  a  happy  new  year." 

A  Carol  for  Twelfth  Day. 

To  the  tune  of  the  LaJy'j  Fall. 

(Extracted  from  Chappell's  Version.) 

Mark  weU  my  heavy,  doleful  tale. 

For  Twelfth  Day  now  is  come, 
And  now  I  must  no  longer  stay. 

And  say  no  word  but  mum; 
For  I  perforce  must  take  my  leave 

Of  all  my  dainty  cheer — 
Plum-porridge,  roast  beef,  minc'd  pies, 

My  strong  ale  and  my  beer. 

Kind-hearted  Christmas  now  adieu. 
For  I  with  thee  must  part; 


82  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

But  oh  I  to  take  my  leate  of  thee 

Doth  grieye  me  at  the  heart. 
Thou  wert  ao  ancient  housekeeper. 

And  mirth  with  meat  did'st  keep ; 
But  thou  art  going  out  of  town. 

Which  canaes  me  to  weep. 

Come,  butler,  fill  a  brimmer  full 

To  cheer  my  fainting  heart. 
That  to  old  Christmas  I  may  drink 

Before  he  does  depart. 
And  let  each  one  that 's  in  the  room, 

With  me  likewise  condole; 
And  now  to  cheer  their  ^irits  sad, 

Let  each  one  drink  a  bowl. 

And  when  the  same  it  hath  gone  round, 

Then  fall  unto  your  cheer; 
For  you  well  know  that  Christmas  time 

It  comes  but  once  a  jrear. 
But  this  good  draught  which  I  have  drank 

Hath  comforted  my  heart; 
For  I  was  very  fearful  that 

My  stomach  would  depart. 

Thanks  to  my  master  and  my  dame, 

That  do  such  cheer  aflbrd; 
God  bless  them  that,  each  Christmas,  they 

May  furnish  so  their  board. 
My  stomach  being  come  to  me, 

I  mean  to  have. a  bout; 
And  now  to  eat  most  heartily — 

Good  friends  I  do  not  flout. 

Here  is  a  good  general  song  for  Christmas,  for  which  I  am 
indebted  for  permission  to  publish,  to  Messrs.  Novello,  Ewer, 
&  Co. 


Carols  and  Wassail  Songs.  83 


Comb  Gather  Round  the  Christmas  Fire. 

Words  by  W.  T.  Hulland.    Music  by  C.  H.  Gregory, 

Mus.  Bac.  Oxon. 

Come,  gather  round  the  Christmas  fire. 

And  pile  the  fuel  high. 
For  Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year, 

Let's  spend  it  merrily. 

Away  with  grief,  and  welcome  love. 

Peace  and  goodwill  to-day; 
For  life  is  short,  another  year 

May  find  us  in  the  clay. 

May  he,  who  o'er  some  stricken  heart, 

The  oil  and  wine  has  shed, 
Now  find  that  every  drop  has  brought, 

A  blessing  on  his  head. 

Then  fill  your  glasses  brimming  high, 

And  let  this  be  the  toast: 
**  May  he  who  loves  his  fellows  best. 

Enjoy  his  Christmas  most** 

For  Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year. 
Let 's  spend  it  merrily. 

There  is  no  song,  story,  or  proverb  without  its  converse ;  so, 
while  the  well-to-do  could  rejoice  over  their  wassail,  the  poor 
had  to  lament  in  a  dirge  over  the  memory  of  past  drinks  :— 

Christmas  Day. 
By  a  Poor  Old  Man. 

In  times  far  back,  my  Christmas  fare 

Was  turkey  and  a  chine: 
A  pudding  made  of  things  noost  rare, 

And  plenty  of  good  wine. 

F  2 


84  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

When  poorer  grown,  I  still  could  dine 

On  gQOW  or  roasted  pig ; 
A  glass  of  grog  instead  of  wine, 

And  dance  the  merry  jig. 

When  times  grew  worse,  my  Christmas  fare 

Was  beef  and  pudding  plain; 
A  pot  of  beer  m  lieu  of  grog — 

Nor  did  I  then  complain. 

But  now  my  mirth  is  turned  to  grief. 

For  Christmas  Day  is  near; 
No  turkey,  pudding,  chine,  or  beef. 

No  wine — no  grog — no  beer. 

Song  of  Christmas. 

By  Charles  Dickens.  Music  by  G.  H.  Rodwell  (D'Ahnaine). 

Tho'  the  wind  blow,  tho'  the  snow  fall. 

We  laugh  at  the  old  care  to-day. 
They're  laughing  and  sing^)g  in  bower  and  hall. 

And  we'll  be  as  merry  as  they,  as  they. 

And  we'U  be  merry  as  they. 
The  nusletoe  hangs  on  the  rafters  high. 

Fill,  fill  every  flagon  with  cheer. 
For  Christmas  was  meant  for  jollity. 

And  Cometh  but  once  a  year,  a  year. 
And  cometh  but  once  a  year. 
Yes,  Christmas  was  meant  for  jollity. 
Yes,  Christmas  was  meant  for  jollity. 
And  cometh  but  once  a  year, 
And  cometh  but  once  a  year. 

Bring  in  the  haunch,  let  the  hearth  blaze. 

Eat,  drink,  and  chase  every  pain. 
With  joyous  old  carols  of  by-gone  days, 

We  seem  to  lire  over  again, 

We  seem  to  live  over  again. 


Carols  and  Wassail  Songs.  85 

Then  what  care  we  for  a  wintry  8ky» 

Who  dream  but  of  sunshine  here. 
While  Christmas  was  meant  for  jollity^ 

And  Cometh  but  once  a  year. 

And  Cometh  but,  &c. 


A  Christxus  Song. 

The  winter  festival's  returned. 

Killed  fatten'd  ox  and  sheep  : 
The  cheerful  Christmas  log  is  bum'd. 

And  we  its  vigil  keep. 
The  pitcher's  filled,  come,  play  your  parts, 

In  jest,  or  song,  or  tale. 
See!  on  the  board,  my  jovial  hearts, 

The  spicy  toast  and  ale. 

The  holly  boughs  with  berries  red, 

That  thro'  the  green  leaves  glow, 
Around  the  walls  and  windows  spi^ad. 

Look  gay  in  frost  and  snow. 
The  misletoe  delight  imparts, 

To  pluck  its  berries  pale. 
Delight,  too,  flows,  my  jovial  hearts. 

From  spicy  toast  and  ale. 

There  waits,  a  midnight  minstrel  throng, 

Their  dulcet  music  play: 
The  bellman  rings  a  loud  ding  dong. 

And  trolls  his  annual  lay; 
But  fleeting  night  too  soon  departs. 

When  joys  like  these  prevail, 
Remember,  then,  my  jovial  hearts. 

Mirth,  |ong,  and  toast  and  ale. 

Printed  by  J.  Catnach,  Monmouth  Court,  Seven  Dials. 


86  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

Chustmas  Eye. 

Look  where  you  will,  you'll  neatness  find  t'  night. 
To  view  that  neatness  is  a  pleasing  sight ; 
Both  young  and  old  are  eager  to  prepare 
To  cheer  their  friends  with  true  old  English  fare. 
Good  home-brew'd,  too — I  hope  you  will  not  fail 
To  let  your  bellman  taste  your  Christmas  ale. 


A  spirit  of  reverence  and  thankfulness  is  not  out  of  place  in 
any  book,  so  I  will  close  this  chapter  with  S.  Rickard's  ode  to 

Christmas  Day. 

Though  rude  winds  usher  thee,  sweet  day. 

Though  clouds  thy  face  deform. 
Though  nature's  grace  is  swept  away, 

Before  thy  sleety  storm  ; 
Ev'n  in  thy  sombrest  wintry  rest, 
Of  blessed  days  thou  art  most  blest. 

Nor  frigid  air,  nor  gloomy  morn, 

Shall  check  our  jubilee ; 
Bright  is  the  day  when  Christ  was  bom. 

No  sun  need  shine  but  He ; 
Let  roughest  storms  their  coldest  blow. 
With  love  of  Him  our  hearts  shall  glow. 

Oft  as  this  joyous  mom  doth  come. 

To  speak  our  Saviour's  love. 
Oh,  may  it  bear  our  spirits  home. 

Where  He  now  reigns  above ; 
That  day  which  brought  Him  from  the  skies. 
And  man  restores  to  Paradise ! 


«7 


CHAPTER    IV. 

CHURCH  ALES  AND  OBSERVANCES, 

**  Launce.  I/thou  wUt  go  with  me  to  the  alehouse^  lo;  if  fwt^ 
thou  art  an  HArew^  a  Jew^  and  not  worth  the  name  of  a  Chrittum  ; 
because  thou  hast  not  so  much  Charily  as  to  go  to  the  alehouse  with 
a  ChristiauJ** — ^Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  act  iL,  scene  5. 

Tm  Church  wakes  and  festivals,  as  originally  established  in  this 
country,  were  based  upon  religious  principles,  following  the  lines 
of  the  agapsB  or  love  feasts  of  the  early  Christians,  which  were  in 
turn  derived  finom  the  older  heathen  observances.  Pope  Gregory 
encouraged  these  feasts  and  solemn  festivals.  Animals  should  not 
be  sacri6ced  diabolo,  to  the  devil,  but  ad  laudem  Dei,  to  the  praise 
of  God. 

These  festivals  were  primitively  held  upon  the  day  of  the 
dedication  of  the  church  in  each  district,  or  the  birthday  of  the 
saint  whose  relics  were  therein  deposited,  or  to  whose  honour  it 
was  consecrated:  for  which  purpose  the  people  were  directed  to 
make  booths  and  tents  with  the  boughs  of  trees  adjoining  to  the 
churches,  circa  easdem  ecclesias  (Bede,  <<£ccl.  Hist."  lib.  1, 
cap.  30),  and  in  them  to  celebrate  the  feast  with  thanksgiving 
and  prayer.  In  process  of  time  the  people  assembled  on  the 
vigil  or  evening  preceding  the  saint's  day,  and  came,  says  an  old 
authority,  **  to  churche  with  candellys  bumyng,  and  would  wake, 
and  come  toward  night  to  the  church  in  their  devocion  "  (*<  Homily 
for  the  Vigil  of  St.  John  Baptist,"  MS.  Harl.),  agreeable  to  the 
requisition  contained  in  one  of  the  canons  established  by  King 
Edgar,  whereby  those  who  came  to  the  wake  were  ordered  to 
pray  devoutly,  and  not  to  betake  themselves  to  drunkenness  and 


88  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

debauchoy.  The  necessity  for  this  restriction  plainly  indicates 
that. abases  of  this  religious  institution  began  to  make  their  appear- 
ance as  early  as  the  tenth  century.  The  author  above  cited  goes 
on,  <'and  afterwards  the  pepul  fell  to  letcherie,  and  songs,  and 
daunses,  with  harping  and  piping,  and  also  to  glotony  and  sinne; 
and  so  toomed  the  holyness  to  cursydness;  wherefore  holy  faders 
ordeyned  the  pepull  to  leve  that  waking  and  to  fast  the  evyn,  for 
of  eryn  they  were  wont  to  come  to  churche."  In  proportion  as 
the  festifals  deviated  from  the  original  design  of  their  institution, 
they  became  more  popular,  the  conviviality  was  extended,  and 
not  only  the  inhabitants  of  the  parish  to  which  the  church 
belonged  were  present  at  them,  but  they  were  joined  by  others 
from  the  neighbouring  towns  and  parishes,  who  flocked  together 
upon  these  occasions;  and  the  greater  the  reputation  of  the  tutelar 
saint,  the  greater  generally  was  the  promiscuous  assembly.  The 
pedlars  and  hawkers  attended  to  sell  their  wares,  and  so  by 
degrees  the  religious  wake  was  converted  into  a  secular  fair. 
The  riots  and  debaucheries  which  eventually  took  place  at  these 
nocturnal  meetings,  became  so  offensive  to  religious  persons  that 
they  were  suppressed,  and  regular  km  established,  to  be  held  on 
the  saint's  day,  or  upon  some  other  day  near  to  it  as  might  be 
most  convenient;  and  if  the  place  did  not  admit  of  any  traffic  of 
consequence,  the  time  was  spent  in  festive  mirth  and  vulgar  amuse- 
ments. These  fairs  still  retain  the  ancient  name  of  wakes  in 
many  parts  of  the  kingdom. 

These  wakes  or  anniversaries  of  the  saint  to  whom  the  church 
was  dedicated,  and  the  fairs  which  originated  from  them,  were 
held  in  the  churchyards  and  occasionally  in  [churches,  by  which 
it  became  a  matter  of  complaint  that  «  Goddes  house  was  made  a 
tavern  of  Gluttons."  The  terms  Scot  ales  and  Give  ales  were 
occasionally  used  synonymously,  but,  generally  speaking,  there  was 
a  distinction  between  thenL  Scot  ala  were  maintained  by  joint 
contributions.  Thus  the  tenants  of  South  Mailing,  in  Sussex, 
which  bdonged  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  were,  at  the 
keeping  of  a  court,  to  entertain  the  lord  or  his  bailiff  with  a 
drinking,  or  an  ale,  and  the  stated  quotas  towards  the  charge  were, 
that  a  man  should  pay  three  pence  halQ)enny  for  himself  and  his 


Church  Ales  and  Observances.  89 

wife,  and  a  widow  and  a  cottager  three  halfpence.  And  in  the 
manor  of  Terring,  in  the  same  county,  and  under  the  same  juris- 
diction, it  was  the  custom  for  the  tenants  named  to  make  a  uatale 
of  sixteen  pence  halfpenny,  and  to  allow  out  of  each  sixpence 
three  halfpence  to  find  drink  for  the  bailiff. 

Common  scotales  in  taverns,  at  which  the  clergy  were  not  to 
be  pretnt,  are  noticed  in  seyeral  ecclesiastical  canons.  They 
were  not  to  be  published  in  the  church  by  the  clergy  or  the 
laity;  and  a  meeting  of  more  than  ten  persons  of  the  same  parish 
or  vicinage  was  a  scotale  that  was  in  general  prohibited.  There 
were  alto  common  drinkings,  in  the  mentioning  of  which  the 
prefix  ted  was  omitted,  and  instead  of  it  was  inserted  a  word 
which  denoted  the  special  puqxMe  which  occasioned  the  compota- 
tion.  Leet'ole^  bride^aie^  cltrk^aU^  church^e^  are  instances  in 
point  To  a  leet-ale  it  is  likely  all  the  residents  in  a  manorial 
district  were  contributors ;  and  the  expense  of  a  bride-*ale  was 
probably  defrayed  by  the  relations  and  friends  of  a  happy  pair, 
who  were  not  in  circumstances  to  bear  the  charges  of  a  wedding- 
dinner.  The  derk's-ale  was  in  the  Easter  holidays,  and  was  the 
method  taken  to  enable  clerks  of  parishes  to  collect  more  readily 
their  dues,  or,  as  it  is  expressed  in  Aubrey's  MS.  ^  History  of 
Wilts,"  as  cited  by  Mr.  Warton  in  his  <<  History  of  English 
Poetry,"  **  it  was  for  the  clerk's  private  benefit  and  the  sobce  of 
the  neighbourhood" 

Mr.  Warton  has  likewise  copied  from  the  Dodsworth  MS.  the 
following  extract  from  an  old  indenture  made  before  the  Refor- 
mation, which  shows  the  design  of  a  church-ale  :—^  The 
parishioners  of  Elveston  and  Okebrook,  in  Derbyshire,  agree 
jointly  to  brew  four  ales,  and  vitxy  ale  of  one  quarter  of  roaltt 
betwixt  this  and  the  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  next  coming. 
And  that  every  inhabitant  of  the  said  town  of  Okebrook  shall 
be  at  the  several  ales.  And  titrf  husband  and  his  wife 
shall  pay  two  pence,  every  cottager  one  penny;  and  all  the 
mhabitants  of  Elveston  shall  have  and  receive  all  the  profits  and 
advantages  coming  of  the  said  ales  to  the  use  and  behoof  of  the 
said  church  of  Elveston.  And  the  inhabitants  of  Elveston  shall 
brew  eight  ales  betwixt  this  and  the  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 


90  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

at  which  ales  the  inhabitants  of  Okebrook  shall  come  and  pay  as 
before  rehearaedL  And  if  he  be  away  at  one  ale,  to  pay  at 
other  ale  for  both,''  &c. 

The  different  ales  above  specified  were,  as  I  have  already  re- 
markedy  supported  by  joint  contributions,  and  most  of  them,  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  compulsory.  But  thegrvcaUs,  which  I  ha?e 
principally  in  view,  were  the  legacies  of  individuals,  and  from 
that  circumstance  entirely  gratuitous;  though  some  of  them 
might  be  in  addition  to  a  common  giveale  before  established  in 
the  parish. 

If  an  adequate  judgment  can  be  formed  from  Stowell's  <*  Ex- 
tracts of  Wills,"  entered  in  the  Register's  office  of  the  diocese  of 
Rochester,  testamentary  giveales  must  have  been  very  numerous 
in  England.  In  several  clauses  the  word  occurs  ;  but  when  the 
bequest  was  of  malt  or  of  barley,  the  use  to  which  it  is  to  be  con- 
verted is  obvious. 

A  dole  of  bread  with,  now  and  then,  a  small  quantity  of  cheese 
and  other  corrodUs^  is  also  mentioned  in  the  same  bequest. 
Charity  was  suggested  as  a  pretence  for  collecting  some  of  the 
scotales ;  but,  in  the  testamentary  giveales,  the  distribution  of 
them  to  the  poor  was  frequently  enjoined,  though  from  the  large- 
nets  of  the  quantity  brewed  it  must  have  been  intended  that  neigh- 
bours, who  were  not  of  the  indigent  class,  should  participate  in 
them. 

The  most  luxurious  treat  of  the  kind,  recorded  in  Stowell's 
**  Extracts,"  was  at  East  Greenwich,  pursuant  to  the  will  of  John 
Champuis,  who  bequeathed  ''  three  shillings  in  bread,  two  shillings 
in  ^ice-bread,  a  barrel  of  ale,  a  gallon  of  malmesey,  two  pounds  of 
comfitts,  and  twenty  pence  in  cheese,  six  shillings  and  eight  pence 
in  wood  and  cole,  six  shillings  and  eight  pence  in  money,  and 
twenty  pence  to  the  Vicar,  and  wardens  to  see  it  donn  for 
ever.''  That  the  poor  had  the  spice-bread,  comfits,  and  Malmsey 
wine  is  not  so  probable  a  surmise,  as  that  the  wardens  and  their 
friends  were  regaled  with  this  choice  fare. 

Giveales  differ  likewise  materially  from  the  conmion  scotales  in 
their  having  been  so  much  blended  with  notions  and  practices  of 
a  superstitious  tendency,  for  the  bequests  were  frequently  to  the 


Church  Ales  and  Observances.  9 1 

light,  or  altar  of  a  taint,  with  directions  for  singing  of  masses  at 
the  obit,  trentaly  or  anniyersary  of  the  death  of  the  testator.  Lands 
were  settled  for  the  perpetual  payment  of  the  legacies  so  appro- 
priated, and  in  consequence  became  Tested  in  the  Crown  by  the 
statute  of  I  Edward  VI.,  which  will  account  for  iu  now  being 
▼ery  difficult  to  trace  the  lands  infeoffed,  and  for  the  general  dis- 
continuance of  the  giveales,  which  were  to  be  supported  by  the 
profits  of  them.  The  parish  of  St.  John  Baptist,  in  the  Isle  of 
Tenet,  is,  howerer,  possessed  of  upwards  of  fifteen  acres  of  land, 
aojuiied  by  a  legacy  bequeathed  for  a  giveale  by  Etheldred 
Barrow,  in  the  year  1513,  there  not  having  been  any  directions 
for  the  performance  of  masses.  Mr.  Lewis  has  not  mentioned  the 
special  use  to  which  the  rent  of  this  land  is  applied,  but  from  the 
manner  of  writing,  it  may  be  inferred,  that  there  is  not  every  year 
on  St.  James's  Day  a  "  distribution  of  a  quarter  of  malt,  and  six 
bnshek  of  wheat  and  vitell  according  thereto,''  notwithstanding  the 
testator  willed  that  such  a  ''yearly  yervale  should  be  main- 
ttfotd  while  the  world  endureth." 

Scotales  were  generally  kept  in  houses  of  public  resort,  but  the 
ale  at  giveales  was  first  dispensed,  if  not  in  the  church  (which, 
however,  sometimes  happened),  yet  in  the  churchyard ;  and  had 
not  this  mode  been  adopted  of  inducing  persons  to  assist  at  the 
celebration  of  private  masses,  and  to  repeat  Ave  Marias  and 
Pater  Nosters  for  the  health  of  the  founders  and  their  relatives, 
a  principal  design  of  the  institution  of  them  would  probably  have 
been  frustrated.  The  founders  evidently  had  the  idea  of  maldng 
the  best  of  both  worlds. 

Evidently,  then,  is  it,  that  a  man  in  high  glee  over  <*  a  stoup  of 
strong  liquor "  was  not  in  former  days  an  unusual  sight  within 
the  precincts  of  a  church ;  unquestionably  not,  as  I  apprehend,  in 
Chalk  churchyard,  William  May,  of  that  parish,  having  provided 
a  copious  giveale  for  a  very  snaall  district  which  had  very  few 
inhabitants.  In  his  will,  which  was  dated  the  24th  of  May 
I  $12,  are  some  memorable  items  concerning  his  funeral  which 
were  not  minuted  by  Stowell.  To  every  godchild  he  had  within 
the  county  of  Kent,  or  elsewhere,  he  gave  six  bushels  of  barley; 
and  he  directed,  if  four  of  these  children  were  able,  they  should 


92  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

bear  him  to  the  charch,  and  vterj  of  them  have  lixpeDce  for 
his  labour.  He  further  willed  that  his  executors  should  buy  two 
new  torches  against  his  burial  for  x  sh.*  that  four  poor  men 
should  be  paid  twopence  apiece  for  bearing  these  torches,  and 
that  the  three  men  who  should  sing  at  his  burial  should  have  for 
their  labour  threepence  apiece,  and  as  much  at  his  month's 
mynd.  To  the  highth  altar  he  bequeathed  twenty-pence, 
and  he  willed  that  an  honest  preste  should  synge  for  his  soull  and 
his  firiends,  as  shortly  as  he  may  be  goten,  half  a  yere,  and  have 
for  his  labour  five  marices.  He  willed  at  his  burial  there  should 
be  thirteen  prestes,  and  every  preste  to  have  then,  and  also  at  his 
month's  mynd,  sixpence  for  his  labor.  He  likewise  willed  that 
his  wife  make  every  year  for  his  soull  an  obit,  and  to  make  in 
bread  six  bushels  of  wheat,  and  in  drink  ten  bushels  of  mault,  and 
in  cheese  twenty-pence,  to  give  to  poor  people  for  the  health  of 
his  soull ;  and  he  ordered  that  after  the  decease  of  his  wife  his 
executors  and  feoflees  should  continue  the  olnt  before  rehearsed 
for  evermore. 

Giveales  on  obsequies,  as  well  as  on  the  anniversaries  of  the 
dedication  of  churches,  were  in  other  respects  merrymakings,  at 
which  there  was  a  free,  perhaps  a  licentious,  indulgence  in  the 
games  and  sports  of  the  times ;  though  playing  with  the  ball, 
singing  of  ballads,  dissolute  dances,  and  ludicrous  spectacles  in 
churches  and  churchyards,  subjected  the  frequenters  of  them  to 
pecuniary  penalties  and  ecclesiastical  censures,  excoimnunications 
not  excepted. 

I  have  been  indebted  for  a  great  deal  of  the  foregomg  to  a 
learned  writer  m  the  **  Archseologia,"  vol.  12.  Our  ancestors  had 
few  resources  and  amusements,  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if 
they  extended  the  strict  license  of  sobriety,  especially  when  the 
lower  order  of  the  clergy  gave  them  every  encouragement  to  do 
so.  From  Heniy  we  learn  that  the  secular  clei^  were  no 
enemies  to  the  pleasure  of  the  table ;  and  some  of  them  contrived 
to  convert  gluttony  and  drunkenness  into  religious  ceremonies,  by 
the  celebration  of  gluttony-masses,  as  they  very  properly  called 
them.  These  gluttony-masses  were  celebrated  five  times  a  year, 
in  honour  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  in  this  manner.     Early  in  the 


Church  Ales  and  Observances.  93 

rooming  the  people  of  the  parish  assembled  in  the  diarchy  loaded 
with  ample  stores  of  meats  and  drinks  of  all  kinds.  As  soon  as 
mass  ended  the  feast  began,  in  which  the  clergy  and  laity  engaged 
with  equal  ardour.  The  church  was  turned  into  a  tavem,  and 
became  a  scene  of  excessive  riot  and  intemperance.  The  priests 
and  people  of  different  parishes  entered  into  formal  contests 
which  of  them  should  have  the  greatest  gluttony-mass»  Le^  which 
of  them  diould  devour  the  greatest  quantities  of  meat  and  drink 
in  hoDonr  of  the  Holy  Virgin. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  in  Anglo-Saxon  times,  hospi- 
tality was  the  rule,  and  monasteries,  in  those  times,  were  a  kind 
of  public-houses,  where  travellers  and  strangers  of  all  ranks  were 
lodged  and  entertained.  In  the  Abbey  of  Aberi>n>thick,  about 
nine  thousand  bushels  of  malt  seem  to  have  been  annually  ex- 
pended in  ale.  Chaucer,  in  the  ^  Ploughman's  Tale,"  reproves 
the  priests  because  they  were  more  attentive  to  the  practice  of 
secular  pastimes  than  to  the  administration  of  their  holy  functions, 
saying  diey  were  expert 

*'  At  the  wrestlynge  and  at  the  wake. 
And  chefe  chauntours  at  the  nale, 
Markette  beaters,  and  medlyng  make, 

Hoppen  and  houters  with  heve  and  hale." 

That  the  customs  of  keeping  up  church  and  other  ales  became 
greatly  abused,  there  can  be  no  question ;  and  some  attempts  were 
made  from  time  to  time  to  restrict  them.  In  the  Records  of  the 
Court-Leet  for  the  Manor  of  Manchester,  1 552-1680,  we  find 
it  enacted  that  no  guest  at  a  wedding  (bride-ale)  should  pay  for 
his  dinner  more  than  fourpence.  The  wise  men  of  the  town  had 
good  reason  to  know  that  wedding  feasts  whereat  the  guests 
were  compelled  by  social  custom  to  be  present,  had  become  a 
heavy  tax  on  the  community. 

Probably  the  most  peculiar  of  the  many  quaint  customs  which 
our  ancestors  kept  up  was  the  funeral  one  of  sin  eating.  In  a 
letter  dated  171 5^  printed  in  Leiand's  Collection,  it  is  stated 
that,  within  the  memory  of  the  writer's  father,  in  those  villages 
adjoining  Wales,  when  a  person  died  notice  was  given  to  an  old 


94  J^  Praise  of  Ale, 

**mK"  or  village  patriarchy  who  straightway  repaired  to  the 
house  of  mourning  and  sat  down  on  a  **  cricket,"  or  stool,  facing 
the  door ;  then  one  of  the  family  of  the  deceased  gave  the  sm- 
eacer  a  groat,  which  he  put  in  his  pocket,  a  crust  of  bread  which 
he  ate,  and  a  full  bowl  of  ale  which  he  drank  off  at  a  draught. 
Finally,  he  rose  from  the  cricket,  and  with  a  composed  gesture 
pronounced  *'  the  ease  and  rest  of  the  soul  departed,  for  which 
he  would  pawn  his  own  soul/'  In  Hereford,  accordmg  to 
Aubrey,  the  sb-eater  ate  his  bread  and  drank  his  bowl  of  beer 
over  the  corpse,  and  his  fee  was  sixpence  instead  of  fburpence. 
Bishop  Kennett,  to  whom  Aubrey's  manuscripts  passed,  added  to 
them  a  note  that  a  remainder  of  this  custom  lingered  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  eighteenth  century  in  the  parish  of  Amersham,  in 
the  county  of  Bucks.  There,  at  the  burial  of  every  corpse,  a 
cake  and  a  flagon  of  ale  were  brought  to  the  clergyman  in  the 
porch ;  but  this  refecdon  was  not  served  until  after  the  interment. 
Inconstancy  in  love  has  prevailed  time  out  of  mind,  but  it  is  sads- 
&ctory  to  find  that  retribution  overtook  Roger  as  surely  as  it  did 
Imogene  the  fidr  at  the  wedding  feast,  even  though  it  were  a 
"  bidden  wedding."  Roger  has  deserted  his  first  love,  whom  he 
left  in  a  delicate  condition,  fell  in  with  and  married  the  widow 
of  a  well-to-do  butcher. 

**  From  church  the  fond  couple  adjourn  to  the  Crown ; 

The  company  drink,  laugh,  and  sing;  * 
The  bacon  and  greens  they  go  merrily  down, 
And  the  mugs  were  all  frothing  with  liquor  so  brown, 

When  the  bell  of  the  ale-house  went  ting.** 

All  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell,  until  a  dpstafF  arrived. 

^  Full  stout  were  his  limbs,  and  full  tall  was  his  height; 

His  boots  were  all  dirty  to  view, 
Which  made  all  the  damsels  draw  back  in  a  fright 
Lest  by  chance  they  should  sully  their  petdcoats  white, 

And  poor  Roger  began  to  look  blue." 

In  the  upshot  the  vicum  was  taken  away,  and 


Church  Ales  and  Observances.  95 

**  Four  tinics  in  each  year,  when,  in  judgment  profound. 

The  quorom  all  doze  on  the  bench, 
Is  Roger  brought  up,  and  u  forced  to  be  bound. 
With  a  friend,  in  the  sum  of  at  least  forty  pound, 

To  provide  for  the  child  and  the  wench. 

**  The  churchwardens  sit  round,  for  the  treat  they  don't  pay, 

Their  cares  all  with  'bacco  beguil'd ; 
They  drink  out  of  mugs  newly  formed  of  bak'd  clay; 
Their  liquor  is  ale,  and  this  whimsical  lay 
They  sing  :  •«  Here's  a  health  to  fair  Peggy  the  gay. 

And  the  false  Roger  Gray  and  his  child." 

We  quote  from  the  foregoing  parody,  as  it  shows  how  prevalent 
the  custom  was  to  have  an  open  feast  to  all  comen  on  the  occa- 
sion of  ^  a  bride  ale  "  or  ''  bidden  wedding."  In  return,  how- 
ever, for  the  hospitality  the  guests  were  expected  to  leave  a 
tangible  present  behind  them. 

Cumberland  and  Westmoreland  were  Bmious  for  these  bidden 
weddings.  In  the  course  of  time,  enterprising  publicans  took  the 
organising  of  these  public  weddings  in  hand,  and  hence  they  came 
to  be  known  as  <'  penny  weddings."  After  defraying  the  cost  of 
the  feast  from  the  contributions  of  the  guests,  the  profits  were 
handed  over  to  the  newly-wedded  couple  as  a  nucleus  towards 
fumishbg. 

In  the  Records  of  Hales  Owen,  an  enactment  is  made  against 
excesses  in  the  brewing  of  bride  ale  in  contradistinction  to 
*<  church  ale,"  or  the  *<bid  ale,"  which  was  got  up  for  the 
benefit  of  an  unsuccessful  tradesman. 

**  Itemy  a  payne  is  made  that  no  person  or  persons  that  shall 
brewe  any  wedding  ale  to  sell,  shall  not  brewe  above  twelve  strike 
of  mault  at  the  most,  and  that  the  said  persons  so  married  shall 
not  keep  nor  have  above  eight  messe  of  persons  at  his  dinner 
within  the  burrowe ;  and  before  his  brydall  day  he  shall  keepe  no 
unlawful  games  in  hys  house  nor  out  of  his  house,  on  psin  of  20 
shillings." 

The  well-to-do  people,  however,  were  above  sending  the  hat 


96  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

round,  and  upped  the  beer  barrels  freely  to  all  who  choae  to 
come.  Cumberland  was  famous  for  the  hospitality  of  these  bidden 
weddings.  Here  is  the  form  of  invitation  to  one,  taken  firom  the 
"  European  Magazine/'  of  July  1 789 : — 


BmDEN  Wedding. 

Suspend  for  one  day  your  cares  and  your  labours. 

And  come  to  this  wedding,  kind  friends  and  good  neighbours. 

Notice  is  hereby  given  that  the  marriage  of  Isaac  Pearson 
with  Frances  Atkinson  will  be  solemnized  in  due  form  in  the 
Parish  Church  of  Lamplugh,  Cumberland,  on  Tuesday  next,  the 
30th  May,  inst.,  after  which  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  with  their 
attendants,  will  procede  to  Lonefoot,  in  the  same  parish,  where 
the  nuptials  will  be  celebrated  by  a  variety  of  rural  entertamments. 

Then  come  one  and  all. 
At  Hymen's  soft  call. 

From  Whitehaven,  Workington,  Harrington,  Dean, 
Hail  Ponsonby,  Blaing,  and  all  places  between; 
From  Egremont,  Cockermouth,  Parton,  St.  Bees, 
Cint,  Kinnyside,  Cimder,  and  parts  joining  these. 
And  the  country  at  large  may  flock  in  if  they  please. 
Such  sports  there  will  be  as  have  seldom  been  seen. 
Such  wrestling,  and  fencing,  and  dancing  between. 
By  horses,  and  asses,  and  dogs  will  be  run, 
Thsx  you'll  go  home  happy,  as  sure  as  a  gun. 
In  a  word,  such  a  wedcting  can  ne'er  &il  to  please, 
For  the  sports  of  Olympus  were  trifles  to  these. 
Nota  bene  :  you'll  be  pleased  to  observe  that  the  day 
Of  this  grand  bridal  pomp  is  the  thirtieth  of  May, 
When  'tis  hoped  that  the  sun,  to  enliven  the  sight. 
Like  the  flambeau  of  Hymen  vnll  deign  to  bum  bright 

Hone  transcribes  a  somewhat  different  account  of  the  Whitsun 
ales  from  the  foregoing,  and  this  is  worth  printing  as  a  comple- 
ment    IVhitifm  ale*  were  derived  from  the  Agape^  or  love-feasts 


Church  Ales  and  Observances.  97 

of  the  early  Chrisdansy  and  were  so  denominated  from  the 
churchwardens'  buying,  and  laying  in  firom  presents  also,  a  large 
quantity  of  malt,  which  they  brewed  into  beer,  and  sold  out  in 
the  church  or  elsewhere.  The  profits,  as  well  as  those  from 
sundry  games,  there  being  no  poor-rates,  were  given  to  the  poor, 
for  whom  this  was  one  mode  of  provision,  according  to  the 
Christian  rule  that  all  festivities  should  be  rendered  innocent 
by  alms.  Aubrey  thus  describes  a  Whitsun  ale:  <'In  every 
parish  was  a  church-house,  to  which  belonged  spits,  crocks,  and 
other  utensils  for  dresnng  provisions.  Here  the  housekeepers 
met.  The  young  people  were  there  too,  and  had  dancing,  bowl- 
ing, diooting  at  butts,  &c.,  the  ancients  sitting  gravely  by  and 
looking  on."  It  seems,  too,  that  a  tree  was  erected  by  the 
church  door,  where  a  banner  was  placed,  and  maidens  stood 
gathering  contributions.  An  arbour,  called  Robin  Hood's  Bower, 
was  also  put  up  in  the  churchyard.  In  more  modem  times  the 
Whitsun  ale  consisted  of  a  lord  and  lady  of  the  ale,  a  steward, 
swo  d-bearer,  purse-bearer,  mace-bearer,  train-bearer  or  page,  fool, 
and  pipe  and  tabor  man,  with  a  company  of  young  men  and  women, 
who  dance  in  a  bam. 

Girey,  in  his  topographical  History  of  Cornwall,  shows  how 
these  feasts  were  got  up  and  kept  up.  *'  For  the  ebureb  ale^  two 
young  men  are  yerely  chosen  by  their  last  foregoers  to  be  wardens, 
who,  dividing  the  task,  make  collection  among  the  parishioners, 
of  whatsoever  provision  it  pleaseth  them  voluntarily  to  bestow. 
This  they  employ  in  brewing,  baking,  and  other  acates,  against 
Whitsuntide,  upon  which  holidays  the  neighbours  meet  at  the 
church  house,  and  there  merily  feed  on  their  owne  victuals^  each 
contributing  some  petty  portion  to  the  stock,  which,  by  many 
smalls,  groweth  to  a  meetly  greatness ;  for  there  is  entertayned  a 
kind  of  emulation  between  these  wardens,  who,  by  his  gracious- 
oess  in  gathering,  and  good  husbandry  in  expending,  can  best 
advance  the  churche's  profit.  Besides,  the  neighbour  parishes  at 
those  times  loving  visit  one  another,  and  frankly  spend  their 
money  together.  The  aftemoons  are  consumed  in  such  exercises 
as  olde  and  yonge  folk  (having  leysure)  doe  accustomably  weare 
out  the  time  withall.     When  the  feast  is  ended,  the  wardens 


98  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

yeeld  in  their  accounts  to  ]>ari8hioners ;  and  such  money  as 
exceedeth  the  disbursement  is  layed  up  in  storey  to  defray  any 
extiaofxiinary  charges  arising  in  the  parish,  or  imposed  on  them 
for  the  good  of  the  countrey  or  the  prince's  service;  neither  of 
which  commonly  gripe  so  much,  but  that  somewhat  stil  remayneth 
to  cover  the  purse's  bottom." 

Aubrey,  in  his  History  of  Wiltshire,  says: — "There  were  no 
rates  for  the  poor  in  my  grandfiither's  days;  but  for  Kingston  St. 
Michael  (no  small  parish)  the  church  ale  of  Whitsuntide  did  the 
business.  In  every  parish  is  (or  was)  a  church  house  to  which 
belonged  spits,  crocks,  &c.,  utensils  for  dressing  provision.  Here 
the  housekeepers  met  and  were  merry,  and  gave  their  charity. 
The  young  people  were  there  too,  and  had  dancing,  bowling, 
shooting  at  butts,  &c.,  the  ancients  sitting  gravely  by  and  looking 
on.     All  thugs  were  civil,  and  without  scandal." 

Douce  gives  an  account  of  the  manner  in  which  these  feasts 
were  conducted: — *<  At  present  the  Whitsnn  ales  are  conducted 
in  the  following  manner.  Two  persons  are  chosen,  previously  to 
the  HMeting,  to  be  lord  and  lady  of  the  ale,  who  dress  as  suitably 
as  they  can  to  the  characters  they  assume.  A  large  empty  bam 
or  some  such  building  is  provided  for  the  lord's  hall,  and  fitted  up 
with  seats  to  accommodate  the  company.  Here  they  assemble 
to  dance  and  regale  in  the  best  manner  their  circumstances  and 
the  place  will  afford;  and  each  young  fellow  treats  the  girl  with 
a  riband  or  favour.  The  lord  and  lady  honour  the  hall  with 
their  presence,  attended  by  the  steward,  sword-bearer,  purse- 
bearer,  and  mace-bearer,  with  their  several  badges  or  ensigns  of 
office.  They  have  likewise  a  train-bearer,  or  page,  and  a  fool  or 
jester,  drest  in  a  party-coloured  jacket,  whose  ribaldry  and  gesticu- 
lation contribute  not  a  little  to  the  entertainment  of  some  part  of  the 
company.  The  lord's  music,  consisting  of  a  pipe  and  tabor,  is 
employed  to  conduct  the  dance.  Some  people  think  this  custom 
is  a  commenooration  of  the  ancient  Drink-lean,  a  day  of  festivity, 
formerly  observed  by  the  tenants  and  vassals  of  the  lord  of  the  fee 
within  his  manor,  the  memory  of  which,  on  account  of  the  jollity 
of  those  meetings,  the  people  have  thus  preserved  ever  since. 
The  glossaries  inform  us  that  this  Drink-lean  was  a  contribution 


Church  Ales  and  Observances,  99 

of  tenants  towards  a  potation  or  ale,  provided  to  entertain  the  lord 
or  his  steward." 

**  Strephon,  with  leavy  twigs  of  laurel  tree, 
A  garland  made,  on  temples  for  to  weare, 
For  he  then  chosen  was  the  dignitie 

Of  village  lord,  that  Whitsuntide,  to  beare." 

The  churchwardens  were  not  slow  to  perceive  that  these  feasts 
could  be  made  into  a  permanent  source  of  income.  They 
observed  that  the  wakes  were  more  popular  than  any  other 
holidays,  and  rightly  conceived  that  by  establishing  other  institu- 
tions similar  to  them  they  might  draw  together  a  large  company 
of  people,  and  annually  collect  from  them,  gratuitously  as  it  were, 
such  sums  of  money  for  the  suppoit  and  repair  of  the  church, 
as  would  be  a  great  easement  to  the  parish  rates.  By  way  of 
enticement  to  the  populace,  they  brewed  a  certain  portion  of 
strong  ale,  to  be  ready  on  the  day  appointed  for  the  festival,  which 
they  sold  to  them ;  and  most  of  the  better  sort,  in  addition  to  what 
they  paid  for  their  drink,  contributed  something  towards  the 
collection ;  but  in  some  instances  the  inhabitants  of  one  or  more 
parishes  were  mulcted  in  a  certain  sum  according  to  mutual 
agreement,  as  we  find  by  an  ancient  stipulation  (Dodsworth's 
MSS.  *^  Bid.  Bob.,"  vol.  148,  fol.  97)  couched  in  the  following 
terms: — **  The  parishioners  of  Elvertoon  and  those  of  Okebrook, 
in  Derbyshire,  agree  jointly  to  brew  four  ales,  and  every  ale  of 
one  quarter  of  malt,  between  this  (that  is,  the  time  when  the 
contract  was  made)  and  the  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  next 
conuning,  and  every  inhabiunt  of  the  said  town  of  Okebrook 
shall  be  at  the  several  ales,  and  every  husband  and  his  wife  shall 
pay  two  pence,  and  every  cottager  one  penny.  And  the  in- 
habitants of  Elverton  shall  have  and  receive  all  the  profits 
conuning  of  the  said  ales,  to  the  use  and  behoof  of  the  church  of 
Elverton ;  and  the  inhabitants  of  Elverton  shall  brew  eight  ales 
betwixt  this  and  the  feast  of  St.  John,  at  which  ales  the 
inhabiunu  of  Okebrook  shall  come  and  pay  as  before  rehearsed : 
and  if  any  be  away  at  one  ale,  he  is  to  pay  at  t'  oder  ale  for 
both." 

o  2 


I  oo  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Id  the  olden  days  there  was  a  reference  about  these  feasts 
which  kept  them  pure;  and  Shakespeare  makes  an  .appropriate 
allusion  to  these  feasts — 

^  Which  have  been  sung  at  festivals 
On  ember  eves  and  holy  eves." 

In  coarse  of  time  the  coarseness  of  the  glutton  masses  tended 
to  pervert  the  innocent  feasts,  which  partook  originally  of  the 
nature  of  a  pic-nic,  into  a  drunken  bout ;  and  moralists  and  the 
higher  order  of  clergy  denounced  them  in  no  measured  terms. 
Wither,  in  i6i8»  denounced  the  Hock-tide  and  church-ale 
hypocrites  of  his  day  in  good  set  terms: — 

^  Who  think  forsooth  because  that  once  a  yeere 
They  can  afford  the  poor  some  slender  cheer. 
Observe  their  country  feasts,  or  common  doles, 
And  entertain  their  Christmass  wassaile  boles, 
Or  else  because  that  for  the  churches'  good, 
They  in  defence  of  Hock-tide  custom  stood : 
A  Whitsun  ale,  or  some  such  goodly  notion. 
The  better  to  procure  young  men's  devotion : 
What  will  they  do,  I  say,  that  think  to  please 
Their  mighty  God  with  such  good  things  as  these? 
Sure  very  ill." 

The  observance  of  Hock  Tuesday  has  long  been  obsolete, 
though  it  was  kept  up  at  Coventry  in  Spilman's  time,  1641,  with 
great  vigour ;  and  the  custom  was  universally  kept  up  in  Shake- 
speare's time. 

Philip  Stubbs,  the  Puritan,  at  a  still  earlier  date,  denounced 
the  church-ales  in  his  **  Anatomie  of  Abuses,"  1585: — ^**In 
certaine  townes,  where  dronken  Bacchus  beares  swaie,  against 
Whitsondaie  the  churchewardens  of  every  parishe,  with  the 
consent  of  the  whole  paruhe^  provide  halfe  a  score  or  twentie 
quarters  of  maulte,  whereof  some  they  buy  of  the  churche  stocke, 
and  some  is  given  them  of  the  parishioners  themselves,  every  one 
conferring  somewhat  according  to  his  abilitie,  whiche  maulte  being 
made  into  very  strong  ale  or  here,  is  sette  to  sale,  either  in  the 
church  or  some  other  place  assigned  to  that  purpose.     Then 


Church  Ales  and  Observances,  loi 

when  this  is  set  abroche,  well  is  he  that  cao  gete  the  soonest  to  it, 
and  spend  the  most  at  it." 

Launce  has  a  slight  sneer  at  the  observances : — "  Because 
thou  hast  not  so  much  charity  in  thee  to  go  to  an  ale-house  with 
a  Christian,  wilt  thou  go  ?" — Two  GenlUmen, 

The  Archbishop  of  York  denounced  these  customs  at  a  com- 
paratively  early  period,  a.d.  1 363  : — **  Whereas  some,  being 
turned  to  a  reprobate  sense,  meet  in  churches  on  the  vigils  of 
saints,  and  offend  very  grievously  against  God  and  his  saints, 
whom  they  pretend  to  venerate,  by  minding  hurtful  plays  and 
vanities, ^and  sometimes  what  is  worse;  and  in  the  exequies  of  the 
dead  turn  the  house  of  mourning  and  prayer  into  the  house  of 
laughter  and  excess,  to  the  great  peril  of  their  own  souls, 
we  strictly  forbid  any  that  come  to  such  vigils  and  exequies, 
especially  in  churches,  to  exercise  in  any  way  such  plays  and  un- 
cleannesses.  And  we  strictly  enjoin  all  rectors,  &c.,  that  they 
forbid  and  restrain  all  such  insolencies  and  excesses  from  being 
committed  in  their  churches  and  churchyards  by  the  sentence  of 
suspension  and  excommunication  according  to  the  canon,"  &c. — 
Johnson's  *<  Collection." 

The  Bishop  of  Winchester  followed  with  a  mandate,  by  which 
he  forbids  ballad-singing,  the  exhibiting  of  shows,  and  other  pro- 
fanations in  the  churchyard,  on  pain  of  excommunication. 

For  a  long  time,  however,  the  ordinances  of  the  few,  being 
against  the  customs  of  the  many,  especially  when  the  worshippers  at 
a  glutton  mass  had  such  earnest  ministers  as  the  Holy  Clerk  of 
Copmanhurst,  the  friar  of  Orders  Grey,  and  other  priests  of 
that  type,  they  could  readily  condone  any  excess,  in  which  they 
themselves  joined.  This  type  of  cleric  has  often  been  described 
in  prose  and  poetry. 

The  Jovial  Fmars. 

Words  by  William  Jones.      Music  by  G.  Herbert  RodweU. 
Published  by  B.  Williams,  1 1,  Paternoster  Row. 

By  the  river's  side,  where  the  woods  stretch'd  wide, 
The  monks  would  lazily  rest. 


1 02  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  many  a  deer  would  enliyen  their  cheer, 
And  help  to  feather  their  nest. 
And  help  to  feather  their  nest. 

But  blyther  friars,  for  whom  our  sires 
Had  always  a  trencher,  a  trencher  laid, 
Ajsd  a  cheerful  glass  as  on  they  would  pass, 
Which  a  song  or  a  shrive  repaid. 
Which  a  song  or  a  shriye  repaid. 

And  merrier  were  they  as  they  jogg'd  on  their  way, 

Than  the  monk  who  doz'd  in  his  cloisters  grey ; 

With  an  ave  meet  the  firiar  would  greet 

The  traveller  homeward  bound. 

And  return  with  him  as  the  eve  grew  dim, 

Where  a  pasty  or  flitch  be  found. 

Where  a  pasty  or  flitch  be  found. 

The  flagon  of  ale  would  prove  the  tale. 
Of  many  a  frolicksome,  frolicksome  deed; 
And  hearty  he  quaif'd,  and  gaily  he  laugh'd. 
When  they  bade  him  at  mom  God  speed, 
When  they  bade  him  at  mom  God  speed. 

And  merrier  were  they,  as  they  jogg'd  on  their  way, 
Than  the  monk  who  dozed  in  his  cloisters  grey. 
Than  the  monk  who  dozed  in  his  cloisters  grey. 

Who  knew  not  the  friar  with  visage  of  fire, 

And  eyes  that  would  twinkle  bright. 

Like  the  sun's  broad  beam  on  a  slumb'ring  stream, 

Or  stars  in  a  frosty  night ! 

With  a  wanton  air,  that  cast  away  care, 

And  lips  ever  smiling  bland. 

At  revel  and  feast,  the  friar  at  least 

Was  the  jolliest  in  the  land! 

And  merrier  were  they,  as  they  jogged  on  their  way, 
Than  the  monk  who  dozed  in  his  cloisters  grey. 


Church  Jles  and  Observances.  1 03 

The  Friar. 

A  jolly  fdX  friar  lov'd  liquor  good  store. 

And  he  had  drank  stoutly  at  supper; 
He  mounted  his  horse  in  the  night  at  the  door. 

And  sat  with  his  face  to  the  crupper. 
Some  rogue,  quoth  the  friar,  quite  dead  to  remorse, 

Some  thief,  whom  a  halter  will  throttle. 
Some  scoundrel  has  cut  off  the  head  of  my  horse. 

While  I  was  engaged  with  the  bottle. 

Which  went  gluggity,  gluggity,  glug. 

The  tail  of  his  steed  pointed  south  on  the  vale, 

Twas  the  friar's  road  home,  straight  and  level, 
But  when  spur'd,  a  horse  follows  his  nose,  not  his  tail. 

So  he  scamper'd  due  north  like  the  devil. 
This  new  mode  of  docking,  the  ht  friar  said, 

I  perceive  does  not  make  a  horse  trot  ill ; 
And  'tis  cheap,  for  he  never  can  eat  off  his  head. 

While  I  am  engag'd  with  the  bottle. 

Which  goes  gluggity,j&c. 

The  steed  made  a  stop,  in  the  pond  he  had  got. 

He  was  rather  for  drinking  than  grazing ; 
Quoth  the  friar,  'Tis  strange  headless  horses  should  trot, 

But  to  drink  with  their  tails  is  amazing. 
Turning  round  to  find  whence  this  phenomenon  rose. 

In  the  pond  fell  this  son  of  the  bottle; 
Quoth  he,  The  head's  found,  for  I'm  under  his  nose; 

I  wish  I  was  over  the  bottle! 

Which  goes  gluggity,  5cc. 

The  Clerk  of  Copmanhurst,  otherwise  Friar  Tuck,  trolled  out 
to  King  Richard  I.  an  account  of  his  good  works : — 

The  Bare-footed  Friar. 

I'll  give  thee,  good  fellow,  a  twelvemonth  or  twain, 
To  search  Europe  through  fix>m  Byzantium  to  Spain  ; 


I04  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

Bat  ne'er  shall  yoa*  find,  should  you  search  till  you  tire. 
So  happy  a  man  as  the  bare-footed  friar. 

Your  knight  for  his  lady  pricks  forth  in  career, 

And  is  brought  home  at  evensong  pnck*d  through  with  a  spear ; 

I  confess  him  in  haste — for  my  lady  desires 

No  comfort  on  earth  save  the  bare-footed  friar's. 

Your  monarch  ?     Pshaw !  many  a  prince  has  been  known 

To  barter  his  robes  for  our  cowl  and  our  gown, 

But  which  of  us  e'er  felt  the  idle  desiie 

To  exchange  for  n  crown  the  gray  hood  of  a  friar! 

The  friar  has  walked  out,  and  where'er  he  has  gone 
The  land  and  its  fatness  is  marked  for  his  own ; 
He  can  roam  where  he  lists,  he  can  stop  when  he  tires. 
For  every  man's  house  is  the  bare- footed  friar's. 

He's  expected  at  noon,  and  no  wight  till  he  comes 
May  pro£ine  the  great  chair,  or  the  porridge  of  plums ; 
For  the  best  of  the  chtfer,  and  the  seat  by  the  fire. 
Is  the  undenied  right  of  the  bare-footed  friar. 

He's  expected  at  night,  and  the  pasty's  made  hot. 
They  broach  the  brown  ale,  and  they  fill  the  Uack  pot, 
And  the  good-wife  would  wish  the  good-man  in  the  mire, 
Ere  he  lack'd  a  soft  pillow  the  bare-footed  friar. 

Long  flourish  the  sandal,  the  cord,  and  the  cope, 
The  dread  of  the  devil  and  trust  of  the  pope; 
For  to  gather  life's  roses,  unscathed  by  the  briar, 
Is  granted  alone  to  the  bare-footed  friar. 

Scott,  in  a  footnote,  says  the  holy  clerk  chanted  this  lay  to  a 
sort  of  derry-down  chorus,  and  that  it  may  be  proper  to  state  that 
this  chorus  is  supposed  to  be  as  ancient,  not  only  as  the  Heptarchy, 
but  up  to  the  times  of  the  Druids,  and  to  have  furnished  the 


Church  Ales  and  Observances,  105 

chorus  to  the  hynuM  of  those  venerable  persons  when  they  went 
to  the  wood  to  gather.  The  chorus  has  certainly  descended  to 
our  own  times  as  an  accompaniment  to  rural  ballads.  Equally 
popular,  also,  were  the  refhins,  **Down,  down,  down,  deny- 
down,"  and  **  Which  nobody  can  deny." 

Coming  nearer  to  our  own  time,  our  clerical  grandfathers  had 
the  reputation  of  being  able  to  do  their  share  on  festive  occasions. 
The  song  of  "  The  Vicar  and  Moses  "  is  a  coarse,  and  doubtless 
grossly  exaggerated,  atuck  on  the  drinking  habits  of  a  former 
generation  of  the  clergy  of  the  Established  Church,  as  it  bears  the 
impress  of  untruth  on  the  face  of  it,  and  is,  moreover,  written  in 
Colman's  v^rst  possible  taste.    Two  stanzas  will  be  sufficient : — 

"  At  the  sign  of  the  Horse  old  Spintext,  of  course. 
Each  night  took  his  pipe  and  his  pot; 
O'er  a  jorum  of  nappy,  quite  pleasant  and  happy, 
Was  placed  this  canonical  sot. 

Tol  lol  de  rol  lol,"  &c. 

Then  the  clerk  came  to  ask  the  vicar  to  bury  a  child  at  midnight, 
whereon  the  cleric  called  to  the  landlord — 

**  Bring  Moses  some  beer,  and  me  some — d'ye  hear, 
I  hate  to  be  called  from  my  liquor; 
Come,  Moses,  '  The  king !  '  what  a  scandalous  thing 
Such  a  subject  should  be  but  a  vicar. 

Tol  lol  de  rol  lol,  &c. 

At  length  hat  and  cloak  old  Orthodox  took, 
But  first  cramm'd  his  jaw  with  a  quid ; 

Each  tipt  off  a  gill,  for  fear  they  should  chill. 
And  then  stagger'd  away  side  by  side. 

Tol  lol  de  rol  lol,"  &c. 

When  the  clergy  indulged  so  freely,  what  could  be  expected 
of  the  laity  ? 

Apart  from  the  current  contributions  which  were  collected  on 
behalf  of  the  Whitsun  or  other  ales,  innumerable  bequests  for  the 


ro6  //;  Praise  of  J le. 

puqxMe  existed  io  nearly  all  parts  of  the  kingdom.  1  have  ex- 
tracted a  few  out  of  many ;  and  these  bequests  existed  in  all  parts 
of  the  country : — 

William  Hammond,  of  St.  Mary's  in  Hoo,  by  his  vnll 
directed  **  bis  feoffees  and  executors  see  that  the  yeovale  of  St. 
James  be  kept  for  ever,  as  it  hath  bin  hereaforetime." — StowelPs 
extracts  of  gifts  to  charitable  uses,  from  wills  in  the  Registry  of 
the  diocese  of  Rochester,  printed  in  *<  Thorpe's  Antiquities,"  page 
41.  ''Hoo.  Test.,  Thomas  Beadle,  of  Gerall  house,  lying  at 
Grenehill,  prout  wardens  and  the  brethren  of  the  GevalL" 

John  Devell  also  willed,  *'  that  the  geavale  of  Alhallows  in 
Hoo,  have  one  acre  of  land  after  my  wife's  decease  to  maintain  it 
withal,  called  Pilchland,  and  that  to  be  done  after  the  olde  custom 
of  olde  time."     Ibid.,  p.  46. 

^  Jo.  Bromley,  subtrahit  de  la  gifeale  xviiis.  a  lumine  beatae 
Mariae  apud  Woldham." — Acu  Archid.  Rossen,  1524.  Sept. 
28,  ioL  73,  a. 

•*  Thomas  Gate  et  Rogerus  Gilwyn,  visit,  apud  Woldliam. — 
Habeot  ad  proband,  quod  Johannes  Beauley,  gen.  subtraxit  de  la 
Gif  Ale  continuat  usque  diem  Jovis  in  vigil  S.  Catherine ;  quo  die 
companut  Joh.  Beauley,  et  quoad  de  la  Gif  Ale  dicit,  quod  obtulit 
parocbianis  iiii.  quarter  brasei  pret.  Angl.  quater  vis.  viid.  et  quod 
omnino  recusabant." 

John  Holman.  <<  Item,  volo,  &c.,  unam  acram  terrx,  imper- 
petttom  —  inveniend.  inde  annuatim  de  proventibus  duos  bushel 
<  brasei,  et  unum  bushel '  frumenti  pro  quodam  giveale  paroch  <  de 
Snodland  in  festo  purifie.' " 

PsTti  Sampson.  **Al8o  I  will  that  Harrie  Compton  have  1 
acr*  et  dim.  land,  to  the  intent  that  he  keep  a  yevale  every  other 
year  on  the  feast  of  St.  Michael,  at  every  time  to  be  dispensed  vi. 
bushel  of  wheate  bread,  and  x.  bushel  of  mault  in  ale,"  &c. 

Tho.  Tomys.  **  I  will  and  give  that  Joane  my  daughter  shall 
have  house  and  land,  with  condition,  that  she,  or  else  some  other 
in  her  name,  keep  or  doe  a  ycvall  upon  St.  James's  day,  and  to 
this  yevall  I  bind  this  land  whoever  have  it  without  end." 

Steph.  Sfrare.  <*  Alsoe  I  will,  that  Alice  my  wife  shall  have 
my  house  and  land,  and  marsh,  doeing  yearely  the  charge  of  a 
yeveale  at  Alballon  tide  for  evermore." 


Church  Ales  and  Observances.  107 

Stephen  Jicob.  <*  I  will  that  my  heires  shall  have  five  yards 
of  land  ]3ring  in  Longfield,  and  ^vt  yards  in  Pettefield,  upon 
condition  that  they  make  a  yerely  geveall  on  Trinity  Sunday  of  5 
bushels  of  wheat,  and  i  seame  of  barley,  and  xiid.  in  cheese.'' 

Jambs  Williams.  <*  xiiis.  iiiid.  for  ever.  The  churchwardens 
and  4  or  6  of  the  parishioners  to  be  infeofed  in  lands  to  the  use 
of  his  will" 

Thomas  Love.  *'To  his  heirs  male  for  evermore,  to  this 
intent,  to  keepe  and  roainuyne  in  the  church  of  Cowling  to  the 
value  of  4  bushel  of  wheat  and  4  bushel  of  mault,  and  xvid.  in 
cheese  or  fish,"  &c. 

Rob.  Qvirbull.  ^  I  will  that  a  state  be  made  by  my  feoffees 
of  and  in  all  my  lands  in  Cowling,  to  twelve  or  more  persons, 
as  the  wardens  and  parishioners  of  Clive  will  name,  under  con- 
dition that  the  said  wardens  shall  employ  for  ever  all  the  said 
lands  and  tenements,  to  doe  an  obit  in  Clive  church,  and  as  much 
bread  as  will  be  made  of  three  bushels  of  wheat,  as  much  ale  of  4 
bushels  of  mault,  in  cheese  xxd.  for  ever,"  &c. 

Will.  Hawke.  **  I  bequeath  to  John  Hawke,  my  brother, 
xiii.  acres  of  land,  and  to  his  heirs  for  ever,  with  this  condition, 
that  the  said  John  holde  and  keepe,  or  make  to  keepe  yearly,  in 
the  church  of  Shorne,  an  obit  yearly,  &c.  And  I  will  be  there 
spent  in  bread  4  bushels  of  wheat,  and  a  quarter  of  mault  in 
drink,"  &c. 

JoH.  WiNWAY.  **  First,  I  will  that  A.,  my  wife,  have  my 
house  for  terme  of  her  life,  and  she  to  keep  an  obit  every  yeere, 
and  to  be  spent  in  bread  a  bushel  of  wheat,  and  in  ale  a  bushel  of 
malt,"  5cc. 

JoH.  Hawu.  '*  I  will  that  an  obit  be  kept  yearly  in  the  parish 
church  of  Shorne  on  Relicke  Sunday,  by  the  heir  of  the  time 
being  of  my  land,  a  quarterr  of  mault,  5cr.,  and  half  a  quarter  of 
wheat,  for  ever." 

JoH.  Hamond.  ^  Item,  I  will  that  always  be  kept  an  obit  once  a 
year  in  Lent,  of  a  quarter  of  wheat  and  a  quarter  of  nudt,  from 
heir  to  heir,  for  evermore,  out  of  lands  in  Oysterland  borowe." 

Rich.  FaANCis.  "An  obit  every  Passion  Sunday  for  ever  of  6 
bushel  of  wheat,  and  6  bushel  of  mault." 


io8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Jans  Smith.  ^' A  yearly  obit  on  Monday  next  after  Mid«lent 
Sunday,  ?iud.  to  the  vicar,  to  the  clerk  ivd.,  two  bushels  of 
wheat  for  bread,  and  peas,  and  lOO  of  white  herrings,  and  half  a 
seame  of  mault,  to  be  brewed  yearly;  the  bread,  peas,  &c,  to  be 
delt  in  Sl  Mai^aret's  church,  to  poor  people  that  will  come  to 
takeiL" 

EowiKD  PnATT.  **  I  will  that  my  executors  shall  receive  and 
take  the  profits  of  the  land  I  have  hired  of  John  Love,  of  Hal- 
stow,  bir  the  vpace  of  nine  years,  and  they  to  give  yearly  during 
the  said  term,  9  bushel  of  wheat  in  bread,  and  10  bushel  of  mault 
in  drinky  on  Mid  lent  Sunday,  in  the  church  of  Hoo.'' 

The  most  singular  bequest  perhaps  is  that  of  the  Biddenden 
Maids,  who  bequeathed  their  name  to  the  peculiar  form  of  twin  figure 
gingerbread  cakes,  which  I  remember  as  a  child.  The  afternoon 
of  Easter  Sunday  a  quantity  of  small  flat  cakes,  made  only  of  flour 
and  water,  and  impressed  with  figures  of  two  women,  united  at  the 
side  after  the  fashion  of  the  Siamese  twins,  is  distributed  in  the 
church  porch  to  all  comers.  Bread  and  cheese,  to  a  considerable 
amount,  are  given  at  the  same  time  to  the  poorer  parishioners.  This, 
says  tnKiition,  was  the  legacy  of  twin  sisters,  called  the  Biddenden 
Maids,  who  lived  for  many  years  united  in  their  bodies  after  the 
manner  represented  m  the  cakes,  and  then  died  within  a  few 
hours  of  each  other.  There  is  also  given  to  the  recipients  of  the 
cakes  a  printed  paper,  bearing  upon  it  a  representation  of  the  im- 
pression on  the  cakes,  and  purporting  to  contain  **  a  short  and 
concise  account  of  Elisa  and  Mary  Chulkhurst,  who  were  bom 
joined  together  by  the  hips  and  shoulders,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1 100,  at  Biddenden,  in  the  county  of  Kent,  commonly  called  the 
'  Biddenden  Maids.' ''  They  lived  together  in  the  above  state, 
and  when  one  of  them  died,  the  surviving  one  was  advised  to  be 
sepanted  from  the  body  of  her  deceased  sister;  but  she  absolutely 
refused,  saying,  ^  As  we  came  together  we  will  also  go  together." 
By  their  will,  they  bequeathed  to  the  churchwarden  of  the  parish 
of  Biddenden,  and  his  successors  for  ever,  certain  pieces  or 
parcels  of  land  in  the  parish  of  Biddenden,  containing  twenty 
acres,  more  or  less,  which  now  let  at  forty  guineas.  There  are 
usually  made,  in  commemoration  of  these  wonderful  phenomena 


Church  Ales  and  Observances.  109 

of  nature,  about  1000  rolls,  with  their  impressions  printed  on 
theiDy  and  given  away  to  all  strangers  on  Easter  Sunday,  after 
divine  service  in  the  afternoon ;  also  about  500  quartern  loaves, 
and  cheese  in  proportion,  to  all  the  poor  inhabitants,  of  the  said 
parish. 

A  contributor  to  Notes  and  Queries^  Mr.  William  Spooner, 
wrote,  in  1856 — <<  There  was  a  large  barrel  of  ale  stood  in  the 
High  Street  of  Hoddesdon,  Heiu;  with  an  iron  pot  chained  to 
a  post,  for  any  passer  by  to  drink.  It  was  the  bequest  of  a 
brewer  in  the  town,  named  Christian  Catherow.  Some  time  after 
his  decease,  it  was  a  cask  of  good  ale,  then  it  got  to  table  beer, 
and,  at  last,  done  away  with  altogether,  now  (1856)  about  fifteen 
years,  from  what  cause  I  cannot  say." 

Mr.  John  G.  Morton,  in  1856,  writing  to  the  same  journal, 
shows  that  at  Rickmansworth  the  authorities  attended  to  the 
wishes  of  a  testator. 

The  direction  to  keep  a  cask  of  ale  on  the  public  road  for  the 
free  use  of  all  travellers  is  still  attended  to  at  Rickmansworth 
(1856).  The  cask  is  placed  every  morning  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  leading  out  of  that  town  on  the  road  to  Watford. 

I  have  taken  the  next  fix>m  an  old  magazine:— ''One  of  the 
oddest  of  bequests  is  the  following:  Two  women  left  several 
acres  of  land  to  Paddington  Church,  in  commemoration  of  a  par« 
ticular  charity  by  which  they  had  once  been  relieved  when  in 
distress.  Every  year  bread  and  cheese  were  to  be  thrown  out  of 
the  church  steeple,  and  ale  was  to  be  distributed  among  the  ^)ecta- 
tors.  The  peiformance  of  the  ceremony  is  noticed  in  one  of  the 
London  papen  of  17  40." 

A  correspondent  to  Hone's  Every-Day  Booi,  recorded  that 
**  Stourbridge  fair  was  annually  set  out  on  St.  Bartholomew's 
Day  by  the  aldermen  and  the  rest  of  the  corporation  of  Cam* 
bridge,  who  all  rode  there  in  grand  procession,  with  music  play- 
ing before  them ;  and,  when  the  ceremony  was  finished,  used  to 
ride  and  race  about  the  place;  then  returning  to  Cambridge, 
cakes  and  ale  were  given  to  the  boys  who  attended  them,  at  the 
town-hall;  but,  we  believe,  this  old  custom  is  now  laid  aside." 
The  Stockport   jldvertUer  of  August  5,  1825,  contains  the 


no  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

fbllowiog  programme: — ^'Didsbury  Wakes  will  be  celebrated  on 
the  Sthy  9th,  and  loth  of  August.  A  long  bill  of  fare  of  the 
diversions  to  be  enjoyed  at  this  most  delightful  village  has  been 
published.  The  enjoyments  consist  chiefly  of  ass-races  for 
purses  of  gold,  prison-bar  playing  and  grinning  through  collars  for 
ale,  bag«nicing  for  hats,  foot-racing  for  sums  of  money,  maiden 
plates  for  ladies  under  twenty  years  of  age,  for  gown-pieces, 
shawls;  treacled  -  loaf  -  eating  for  various  rewards,  smoking 
matches,  apple-dumpling-eating,  wheelbarrow-racing,  the  best 
heats ;  bell-racing,  and  balls  each  evening.  '  Quse  nunc  pnescribere 
longum  est.'  The  honours  of  Didsbury  festival  are  always  well- 
regulated  ;  the  display  of  youths  of  both  sexes  vieing  with  each 
other  in  wealth  and  fashion,  as  well  as  in  cheerful  and  blooming 
fiices,  is  not  exceeded  by  any  similar  event ;  and  the  gaieties  of 
each  day  are  succeeded  by  the  evening  parties  Bmtastically 
tripping  through  the  innocent  relaxation  of  country  dances,  reels, 
&C.9  to  as  favourite  tunes,  at  the  Cock  and  Ring  o'  Bells  Inns." 

Beer,  however,  though  associated  with  revelry,  and  the  perhaps 
somewhat  lax  church  feasts,  has  yet  on  other  occasions  been 
employed  in  the  highest  form  of  Christian  worship,  I  remember 
readbg,  about  ten  years  ago,  that  in  a  remote  Indian  station 
neither  the  missionary  in  chaise  nor  the  members  of  his  congrega- 
tion had  any  wine  in  their  possession,  and  were  compelled 
to  celebrate  the  holy  communion  in  the  hottest  weather  with 
bottled  ale.  This  fact  is  honourable  both  to  the  pastor  and  the 
wordiippers,  as  showing  the  simple  earnestness  of  their  religious 
ftith.  Subsequently  the  colonel  of  a  neighbouring  regiment, 
having  heard  of  the  difficulty,  had  the  congregation  supplied  with 
wine  at  his  own  expense.  This  was  probably  the  first  time  that 
bottled  ale  was  used  to  celebrate  the  highest  act  of  Christian 
wonhip. 

At  the  time  of  the  Reformation  the  old  order  of  things  passed 
away  suddenly.  The  monasteries,  and  with  them  the  old 
hospitality  (for  they  were  the  inns  and  houses  of  call  for 
travellers  and  the  wandering  friars),  were,  at  the  same  time  as 
the  jovial  wandering  friars,  improved  off  the  earth.  The 
custom  of  dispensing  ale,  however,  firom  long  habit,  reverted  in  a 


Church  Ales  and  Observances.  1 1 1 

meamire  to  the  reformed  clergy,  who,  of  course,  could  not  be 
expected  to  distribute  gratis  at  their  own  expense.  The  vicar's 
ale  was  always  the  best  in  the  village,  and  the  well-to-do 
inhabttanu  sent  to  him  when  they  wanted  something  extra  good. 
According  to  the  proceedings  of  the  North  Riding  Record 
Society,  the  clei^gy  seemed  to  have  had  a  prescriptive  right  to  sell  ale 
and  beer.  In  reviewing  these  proceedings,  the  jitbensum  says: — 
**  The  part  that  the  clergy  play  in  the  records  before  us  is  not  so 
discreditable  as  we  had  before  reading  expected  to  find  it«  Two 
only  are  presented  for  keeping  ale-houses  without  licence.  It  may 
be  doubted  whether  a  licence  would  have  been  formally  granted  to 
an  ecclesiastic.  That  the  number  of  tippling  houses  was  far 
larger  than  the  population  required  is  evident  from  many  pages  of 
these  proceedings.  That  the  justices  of  the  peace  dealt  with  the 
evil  as  vigorously  as  they  could,  there  is  the  fullest  proof;  but  we 
confess  that  it  does  not  strike  us  as  so  shockingly  scandalous  as  it 
does  the  editor  that  two  clergymen  were  presented  for  brewing 
and  selling  beer  without  a  licence.  Parts  of  the  North  Riding 
were  then  in  a  very  wild  state.  There  must  have  been  many 
places  where  the  curate's  house  was  the  only  one  at  which  a 
traveller  could  be  sure  of  finding  refreshment  The  livings  were 
then  much  smaller  than  now.  The  clergy,  too,  were  heavily 
taxed ;  they  were,  as  is  well  known  to  all  who  have  studied  the 
question,  taken  from  a  much  lower  social  stratum  than  has  been 
common  of  late  years.  What  wonder  is  there,  then,  that,  instead 
of  extending  hospitality  freely,  we  should  have  now  and  then  an 
instance  of  a  parson  who  turned  his  beer-barrel  to  account,  and 
charged  for  the  drink  with  which  he  supplied  strangers  ?" 

That  many  of  the  clergy  of  the  day  were  hard  drinkers  at  a  time 
when  all  men  drank,  there  can  be  no  question ;  and  Major  White 
Melville's  typical  west  country  sporting  parson,  who  could  fight  a 
main  of  cocks,  drink  the  company  blind  drunk,  and  excel  in  all 
outdoor  sports,  was  a  not  unfrequent  character.  Even  the 
scholarly  Dr.  Syntax  thought  it  no  disgrace  to  get  mellow. 

"  If  I  remember  right, 
1  was  most  lordly  drunk  last    ight. 


U2  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  hunting  parson,  of  whom  perhaps  the  Rev.  Jack  Russell 
was  the  last  survivor,  was  the  successor  to  the  portly,  ruby-nosed, 
three-bottle  incumbeoL  Still  even  in  those  days  the  meek  and 
earnest  dei^yman,  of  whom  Dr.  Primrose  was  Uic  type,  was  to 
be  found  in  many  a  village  hamlet : 

^  His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train. 
He  chid  their  wanderings  but  relieved  their  pain." 

•  •  •  •  . 

''  Unskilful  he  to  fawn  or  seek  for  power, 
By  doctrines  fashioned  to  the  varying  hour. 
For  other  aima  his  heart  had  leam'd  to  prize. 
More  skilled  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise." 

We  in  the  present  day  owe  much  to  the  self-denying  labour  of 
the  ministry,  and  it  is  well  to  remember  this  even  when  looking 
back  half  amused  at  the  roystering,  rollicking,  beer-drinking  clergy 
of  a  bygone  generation.  Their  foibles  are  remembered,  though 
their  virtues  are  fbi^gotten. 

The  foregoing  list  is  sufEcient  to  show  that  in  their  works  of 
charity,  their  provisions  for  masses  and  other  religious  observ- 
ances, they  still  thought  of  the  poor  man  and  his  beer.  Funerals, 
again,  were  occasions  on  which  special  provision  was  made  for 
solid  comfort.  In  the  recently  published  chronicles  of  the  York- 
shire family  of  Stapleton,  who  died  **  full  of  years  and  honour, 
25  July,  i394«''  The  old  knight,  who  in  the  Scrope  and 
Grosvenor  controversy  had  deposed  to  **  fifty  years  in  arms,''  had 
outlived  his  brilliant  generation.  The  jovial  though  dying 
warrior  provided  by  his  ^ill  that  the  friends  assembled  at  his 
funeral  should  have  abundance  of  drink  {^flU  eUnt  a  boire 
asseth). 

Let's  havb  a  Peal. 

Let's  have  a  peal  for  John  Cooke's  soul, 

For  he  was  an  honest  man ; 
With  bells  all  in  order,  the  cruse  with  die  black  bowl. 

The  tankard  likewise  with  the  can. 


Church  Ales  and  Observances,  1 1 3 

And  I,  roiDe  own  self,  will  ring  the  treble  bell. 

And  drink  to  you  every  one; 
Stand  fast  now,  my  mates,  sing  merrily  and  well, 

Till  all  this  good  ale  is  gone. 

— Frwn  Ravenscroft's  "  PameLi." 

Major  Bellenden's  song  would   have  suited,  the  worthy  old 
IcnighL 

'*  An'  what  though  winter  will  pinch  severe 
Through  locks  of  grey  and  a  coat  that's  old, 
Yet  keep  up  thy  heart,  bold  cavalier. 

For  a  cup  of  sack  shall  fence  the  cold. 
For  time  will  rust  the  brightest  blade. 

And  years  will  break  the  strongest  bow  ; 
Was  never  wight  so  starkly  made 

But  time  and  years  would  overthrow." 

— Sir  W,  Scott. 

Herrick,  in  his  Hymn  to  the  Lares,  hits  off  the  old  customs : — 

'*  It  was,  and  still  my  care  is, 
to  worship  ye,  the  Laivs, 
with  crowns  of  greenest  parsley, 
and  garlick  chives  not  scarcely  : 
for  favours  here  to  warm  me, 
and  not  by  fire  to  harm  me : 
for  gladding  so  my  hearth  here 
with  inoffensive  mirth  here ; 
that  while  the  wassaile  bowle  here 
with  north  down  ale  doth  trowl  here, 
no  syllable  doth  fall  here, 
to  marr  the  mirth  at  all  here. 
For  which,  whene'er  I  am  able, 
to  keep  a  country-table, 
great  be  my  fare  or  small  cheer, 
I'le  eat  and  drink  up  all  here. 

H 


114 


CHAPTER   V. 

WHITSUN  ALES. 

**  Dovjn  m  a  vale  on  a  summer^ s  doff 
AU  the  ladi  and  latsu  met  to  he  merry ^ 
At  matches  for  kit  set  at  tiooi-halitoflayf 

And /or  cakes^  and  ale^  and  lider  and  ferry,** 

Next  io  importance  to  the  Christmas  festivities  come  the  Whitsun 
rejoicings,  which  were  kept  up  vigorously.  Here  are  a  few  of 
the  songs  applicable  to  that  feast  and  May  Day  rejoicings,  which 
generally  fell  about  the  same  time  of  the  year — sufficiently  close, 
indeed,  for  the  two  sets  of  songs  to  come  together. 

"  The  West  Countrymen's  Delight "  appears  in  Tom 
D'Urphe/s  *'  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy/'  and  is  reproduced  from 
that  source  by  Mr  Chappell.  The  song  gives  a  charming  picture 
of  rural  life  and  felicity. 

The  West  Countrymen's  Delight; 

OR, 

Hey  for  Zummersstshirb. 

In  summer  time  when  flowers  do  spring. 

And  birds  sit  on  each  tree. 
Let  lords  and  knights  say  what  they  will, 

There's  none  so  merry  as  we. 
There's  Will  and  Moll,  with  Harry  and  Doll, 

And  Tom  and  Bonny  Bettee : 
Oh,  how  they  jerk  it,  caper  and  firk  it. 

Under  the  greenwood  tree  ! 


Whitsun  Ales.  1 1 5 

In  summer  time  when  flowers  do  spring, 

And  birds  sit  00  each  tree. 
Let  lords  and  knighu  say  what  they  will, 

There's  none  so  merry  as  we. 

Our  music  is  a  little  pipe. 

That  can  so  sweedy  play ; 
We  hire  old  Hal  from  Whitsuntide 

Till  latter  Lammas  Day. 
On  Sabbath  days  and  holy-days. 

After  evening  prayer  comes  he : 
And  then  do  we  skip  it,  caper  and  trip  it, 

Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

In  summer  time,  &c. 

Come  play  us  Aiiam  and  Eve^  says  Dick ; 

What's  that  ?  says  little  Pipe; 
The  Beginning  of  the  World,  quoth  Dick, 

For  we  are  dancmg  ripe. 
Is't  that  you  call  ?     Then  have  at  all; 

He  play'd  with  merry  glee: 
O  then  did  we  skip  it,  caper  and  trip  it, 

Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

In  summer  time,  &c. 

O'er  hill  and  dales,  to  Whitsun-ales 

We  dance  a  merry  fytte ; 
When  Susan  sweet  with  John  doth  meet, 

She  gives  him  Hit  for  Hit. — 
From  head  to  foot  she  holds  him  to't. 

And  jumps  as  high  as  he : 
Oh,  how  they  spring  it,  flounce  and  fling  it, 

Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

In  sununer  time,  &c. 

My  lord's  son  must  not  be  forgot. 
So  full  of  merry  jest  ; 

H  2 


1 1 6  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

• 

He  laughs  to  see  the  girls  so  hot, 
And  jumps  it  with  the  resL 

No  time  is  spent  with  more  content^ 
In  campy  in  court,  or  city : 

So  long  as  we  skip  it,  frisk  it  and  trip  it, 
Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

In  summer  time,  5cc. 

We  oft  go  to  Sir  William's  ground. 

And  a  rich  old  cub  is  he ; 
And  there  we  dance  around,  around. 

But  never  a  penny  we  see. 
From  thence  we  get  to  Somerset, 

Where  men  are  frolic  and  (ree  : 
And  there  do  we  skip  it,  frisk  it  and  trip  it, 

Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

In  summer  time,  &c. 

We  fear  no  plots  of  Jews  or  Scots, 

For  we  are  jolly  swains; 
With  plow  and  cow  and  barley-mow. 

We  busy  all  our  brains; 
No  city  cares,  no  merchant's  fears 

Or  wreck  or  piracy: 
Therefore  we  skip  it,  frisk  it  and  trip  it. 

Under  the  greenwood  tree : 

In  summer  time,  &c. 

On  meads  and  lawns  we  trip  like  fawns, 

Like  fillies,  kids,  and  lambs; 
We  have  no  twinge  to  make  us  cringe, 

Or  crinkle  in  the  hams. 
When  the  day  is  spent,  with  one  consent, 

Again  we  all  agree 
To  caper  and  skip  it,  trample  and  trip  it, 

Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

In  summer  time,  &c. 


Whitsun  Ales,  1 1 7 

The  next,  the  well-known  Maypole  song,  is  similar  in  scope 
to  the  foregoing,  though  I  believe  of  an  earlier  date,  being 
generally  ascribed  to  the  time  of  Charles  I.  Mr.  William 
Chappell  prints  three  versions,— one  a  curtailed  edition  of  the 
following  full  one,  and  two  others.  I  take  his  authority  as  to 
the  others  belonging  to  the  age  of  Elizabeth.  They  are  curious 
as  showing  how  the  same  song  gets  altered  in  the  course  of  time 
by  different  writers  and  collectors.  The  music  to  these  words 
can  be  had  at  Chappell's,  in  Bond  Street. 

The  Maypole. —  No.  i. 

Come,  lasses  and  lads. 
Get  leave  of  your  dads. 
And  away  to  the  May-pole  hie, 
Where  every  He, 
Has  got  a  She, 
And  the  fiddler  standing  by. 
Where  Willy  has  got  his  Jill, 

And  Jackey  has  got  his  Joan, 
And  there  to  jig  it,  jig  it,  jig  it, 
Jig  it  up  and  down. 

Tol  de  rol  lol,  &c. 

*'  Begin,"  says  Harry, 

"  Ay,  ay,"  says  Mary, 
Let's  lead  up  Paddington-pound, 

"  Oh,  no,"  says  Hugh, 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Sue, 
Let's  dance  St.  Ledger  round. 
Then  every  lad  did  take 
His  hat  off  to  his  lass; 
And  every  maid  did  curtsey,  curtsey, 
Curtsey  on  the  grass. 

"  You're  out,"  says  Nick, 
"  You  lie,"  says  Dick, 


1 1 8  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

** For  the  fiddler  play'd  it  wrong;" 
<<Aik1so/'  says  Sue, 
**  And  so/'  says  Hugh, 
And  so  says  every  one. 
The  fiddler  then  began 
To  play  It  o'er  again, 
And  erery  maid  did  foot  it,  foot  it, 
Foot  it  onto  the  men. 

*<  Let's  kiss,"  says  Fan, 
"  Ay,  ay,"  says  Nan, 
And  so  says  every  she; 

"How  many?"  says  Nat, 
"  Why,  three,"  says  Pat, 
**  For  that's  a  maiden's  fee! " 
But  instead  of  kisses  three. 

They  gave  them  half  a  score; 
The  men,  then,  out  of  kindness,  kindness, 
Gave  'em  as  many  more. 

Then,  after  an  hour. 
They  went  to  a  bower. 
To  play  for  ale  and  cake. 
And  kisses,  too, 
Being  in  the  cue. 
For  the  lasses  held  the  stake. 
The  women  then  began 

To  quarrel  with  the  men, 
And  told  'em  to  take  their  kisses  back. 
And  give  them  their  own  again. 

Oh,  thus  they  all  stay'd 

Until  it  was  late. 
And  tired  the  fiddler  quite, 

With  fiddling  and  playing 

Without  any  paying, 
From  morning  until  night. 


Whitsun  Ales.  1 1 9 

They  told  the  fiddler,  then, 

They'd  pay  him  for  his  play, 
And  erery  one  paid  twopence,  twopence,  ' 
Twopence,  and  toddled  away. 

**  Good  night,"  says  Bess, 

**  Good  night,"  says  Jess, 

^  Good  night,"  says  Harry  to  Holl; 

^  Good  nighty"  says  Hugh, 

*«Good  night,"  says  Sue, 

**  Good  night,"  says  Nimble  NelL 

Some  ran,  some  walk'd,  some  stay'd. 

Some  tarried  by  the  way. 
And  bound  themselves  by  kisses  twelve. 
To  meet  next  holiday! 


To  THE  Maypole  haste  away. — Na  2. 

Time  of  Queen  ER%abeth, 

Come,  ye  young  men,  come  along 
With  your  music,  dance,  and  song ; 
Bring  your  lasses  in  your  hands, 
For  'tis  that  which  love  commands. 

Then  to  the  Maypole  haste  away. 

For  'tis  now  a  holiday. 

There  each  bachelor  may  choose 
One  that  faith  will  not  abuse. 
Nor  repay  with  coy  disdain. 
Love  that  should  be  lov'd  again. 

Then  to  the  Maypole,  6cc. 

It  is  the  choice  time  of  the  year, 
For  the  violets  now  appear; 
Now  the  rose  receives  its  birth. 
And  prttty  primrose  decks  the  earth. 

Then  to  the  Maypole,  &c. 


1 2  o  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

When  you  thus  have  spent  your  time. 

Till  the  day  be  past  its  prime. 

To  your  beds  repair  at  night. 

And  dream  there  of  your  day's  delight 

Then  to  the  Maypole,  &c 

To  THE  Maypole  away. — No.  3. 

Time  of  Charles  /. 

Joan,  to  the  Maypole  away  let  us  on. 
The  time  b  swift  and  will  be  gone ; 
There  go  the  lasses  away  to  the  green. 
Where  their  beauties  may  be  seen ; 

Bess,  Moll,  Kate,  Doll, 
All  the  gay  lasses  have  lads  to  attend  them, 

Hodge,  Nick,  Tom,  Dick, 
Jolly  brave  dancers,  who  can  amend  them? 

Joan,  to  the  Maypole,  &c 

Do  you  not  see  how  the  lord  of  the  May 
Walks  along  in  rich  array? 
There  goes  the  lass  that  is  only  his. 
See  how  they  meet  and  how  they  kiss  1 

Come,  Willi  run,  Gill! 
Or  dost  thou  list  to  lose  thy  labour? 

Kit,  crowd !  scrape  loud ! 
Tickle  up  Tom  with  a  pipe  and  a  tabor, 

Joan,  to  the  Maypole,  &c. 

Now,  if  we  hold  out  as  we  do  begin, 
Joan  and  I  the  prize  shall  win: 
Nay,  if  we  live  till  another  day, 
I'll  make  thee  lady  of  the  May. 

Dance  round,  skip,  bound. 
Turn  and  kiss,  and  then  for  a  greeting; 

Now,  Joan,  we've  done, 
Fare-thee-well  till  the  next  merry  meeting. 

Joan,  to  the  Maypole,  %c. 


Whitsun  Ales.  \  2 1 

The  lads  and  lasses  went  in  for  fun  pure  and  simple,  and 
innocent  revelry.  They  played  for  cakes  and  ale,  and  were  still 
Wrtuous. 

**  The  maid — ^and  thereby  hangs  a  tale — 
For  such  a  maid  no  Whitsun*ale 
Could  ever  yet  produce." 

To  those  who^  alwajrs  looking  with  jaundiced  eyes  at  harmless 
revelry,  can  see  evil  in  a  kiss  and  seduction  in  a  country  dance, 
I  would  commend  the  next  song.  It  is  a  comparatively  modem 
one,  but  1  cannot  fix  the  exact  date. 


Thi  Damce  upon  the  Lawn. 

I  sing  the  days,  the  merry  days — 

To  English  hearts  most  dear — 
When  good  old  English  customs  ruled. 

And  reigned  throughout  the  year; 
When  merry  lads  and  lasses  met, 

And  daily  toil  was  o'er, 
And  grey-haired  fathers  watched  their  mirth 

Beside  the  cottage  door. 
Oh,  there  was  joy  in  Britain's  isle. 

And  peace  from  night  till  mom — 
When  our  sturdy  peasants'  pastime  was 

The  dance  upon  the  lawn! 

Oh,  those  were  days,  were  happy  days 

For  England's  peasant  band. 
When  pipe  and  tabor's  merry  sounds 

Were  heard  throughout  the  land! 
When  May-pole,  decked  with  ribbons  gay, 

Stood  forth  in  village  green, 
And  harmless  mirth  and  jollity 

Beneath  its  boughs  were  seen. 


1 22  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

We  join'd  the  happy  cottar's  throng, 

Nor  lad  nor  lass  would  scorn 
To  trip  a  measure  gaily  in 

The  dance  upon  the  lawn. 

But  though  these  days,  these  merry  days, 

Long  since  have  passed  away — 
There  still  is  plenty  in  the  land. 

Then,  wherefore  not  be  gay? 
If  summer's  glorious  sunshine  will 

The  fruits  and  flowers  restore, 
I  know  not  he  v^hu  would  not  be 

As  happy  as  of  yore. 
Then,  care  away,  we'll  still  be  gay. 

We'll  laugh  our  foes  to  scorn ; 
And  once  again  we'll  sport  it  in 

The  dance  upon  the  lawn. 

Now  IS  THE  Month  of  MAYmc. 

Now  is  the  month  of  Maying, 
When  merry  lads  are  playing, 

Fal  la  la  la  la. 

Each  with  his  boDny  lass 
A-dancing  on  the  grass, 

Fal  la  la  la  la. 

The  spring,  clad  all  in  gladness. 
Doth  laugh  at  Winter's  madness, 

Fal  la  la  la  la. 

And  to  the  bagpipes'  sound, 
The  nym[^s  tread  out  the  ground. 

Fal  la  la  la  la. 

Not  less  to  the  purpose  is  the  song  of  <*  Steady,"  from  Dibden's 
operetta  of  the  Quaker,     The  part  was  originally  taken  by  Incle- 


Whitsun  Ales.  1 23 

don,  and  Gillian  by  Miss  Bolton.  The  few  lines  which  precede 
the  song  are  worth  reprinting,  as  a  fair  example  of  the  kindly 
feelings  that  prerailed.  Indeed,  songs  from  the  dramatists  are 
doubly  valuable,  inasmuch  as  they  are  not  merely  gems,  without 
beginning  or  ending  as  the  bulk  of  songs  are,  but,  taken  with  the 
surrounding  context  or  framework,  they  give  a  key  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  singer,  and  so  form  a  more  perfect  picture  of  the 
times  and  manners. 

Steady,  Thou  art  mistaken;  and  when  thou  beholdest  the 
gambols  to-morrow  on  the  green 

Gillian.  I  shall  long  most  monstrously  to  make  one  amongst 
them. 

Steady.  And  so  thou  shalt  Goodness  forbid  that  I  should 
withhold  from  thee  those  pleasures  that  are  innocent.  [,Singi, 

The  Lads  of  the  Village. 

While  the  lads  of  the  village  shall  merrily,  ah, 

Sound  their  tabors,  I'll  hand  thee  along, 
And  I  say  unto  thee,  that  merrily,  ah, 

Thou  and  I  will  be  first  in  the  throng. 

While  the  lads,  &c. 

Just  then,  when  the  youth  who  last  year  won  the  dower, 
And  his  mate,  shall  the  sports  have  begun, 

When  the  gay  voice  of  gladness  resounds  from  each  bower. 
And  thou  long'st  in  thy  heart  to  make  one. 

While  the  lads,  kc. 

Those  joys  that  are  harmless  what  mortal  can  blame  ? 

'Tis  my  maxim  that  youth  should  be  free; 
And  to  prove  that  my  words  and  my  deeds  are  the  same. 

Believe  thou  shalt  presently  see. 

While  the  lads,  kc. 

The  sequel  shows  how  faithfully  the  Quaker  kept  his  promise. 
And  sacrificed  himself  to  promote  the  happiness  of  Gillian  and  her 
lover,  which  was  celebrated  in  a  catch : — 


124  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

**  Let  nimble  daDces  beat  the  groandy 

Let  taboufy  flageolet,  and  fife, 
Be  heard  from  every  bower: 

Let  the  can  go  round: 
What's  the  health?— long  life 

To  the  donor  of  the  dower.** 

Jas.  Beatde,  in  hit  *'  ImitationB  of  Spenser/'  strikes  the  same 
melancholy  chord  in  singing  the  bygone  pleasures  and  glories  of 
the  rustic  feasts. 

^  And  thither  let  the  village  swain  repair ; 
And  light  of  heart,  the  village  maiden  gay. 
To  deck  with  flowers  her  half-dishevePd  hair, 
And  celebrate  the  merry  mom  of  May. 
There  let  the  shepherd*s  pipe  the  livelong  day 
Fill  all  the  grove  with  love's  bewitching  woe; 
And  when  mild  evening  comes  with  mantle  grey, 
Let  not  the  blooming  band  make  haste  to  go; 
Nor  ghost  nor  spell  my  long  and  last  abode  shall  know. 

**  See !  jolly  Autumn,  clad  in  hunter's  green, 
In  wholesome  lusty  heel  doth  mount  the  sphere, 
A  leafy  garland  binds  her  temples  sheen, 
Instudded  richly  with  the  spikey  ear. 
Her  right  hand  bears  a  vine-encircled  spear. 
Such  as  the  crew  did  wield  when  Bacchus  led, 
When  to  the  Ganges  he  his  course  did  steer ; 
And  in  her  left  a  bugle  horn  she  had. 
On  which  she  oft  did  blow  and  made  her  heart  right  glad. 

*^  Ah,  happy  days !  but  now  no  longer  found ; 
No  more  with  social  hospitable  glee 
The  village  hearths  at  Christmas-tide  resound, 
No  more  the  Whitsun  gambol  may  you  see. 
Nor  morrice  dance,  nor  May-day  jollitie. 


Whit  sun  Ales.  125 

When  the  blythe  maidens  foot  the  dewy  green ; 

But  nowy  in  place,  heart-sinking  penurie 

And  hopeless  care  on  every  face  is  seen, 

As  these,  the  dreary  times  of  curfeu  bell  had  been. 

^  What  pleasance  mote  a  learned  wight  enjoy 
Among  the  hills  and  vales  and  shady  bowres, 
To  mark  how  buxom  Ceres  round  him  poures 
The  hoary-headed  wheat,  the  freckled  come, 
The  bearded  barlie,  and  the  hopp  that  towres 
So  high,  and  with  his  bloom  salews  the  mome, 
And  with  the  orchard  vies  the  lawnskepe  to  adome." 

Addison,  in  the  Spectator^  describes  the  humours  of  a  country 
wake  as  it  existed  in  his  day: — *'The  ring  of  wrestlers,  and  the 
squire  who  always  treats  the  whole  company  every  year  with  a 
hogshead  of  ale,  and  proposes  a  beaver  hat  as  a  recompense  to  him 
who  gives  roost  falls." 

"  But  past  is  all  their  fame,  the  very  spot 
Where  many  a  time  they  triumphed,  is  forgot." 


•*  Trembling  age,  with  happy  smile, 

Youth's  high-mettled  gambols  view, 
And  by  fancy  warm'd  awhile. 

Scenes  of  former  bliss  renew ; 
Love  repeats  his  tender  tale, 

Cheeks  responsive  learn  to  glow, 
And  while  song  and  jest  prevail. 

Nut-brown  tankards  circling  flow. 
Would'st  thou  wish  such  joys  to  share, 
Haste  then  to  the  Village  Fair." 

The  next  extract,  from  «•  The  Unconscionable  Batchelors  of 
Darby,"  one  of  Mr  Llewellyn  Jewitt's  collection  of  Derbyshire 
ballads,  shows  that  the  lads  were  not  so  generous  to  the  lasses  as 


126  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

they  might,  could,  wou]d»  and  should  have  been,  since  they  left 
them  in  the  lurch,  as  poor  Sue  found  to  her  cost: — 

<*  That  after  the  pot  there  cometh  the  shot, 
And  that  is  the  blot  on  a  pot  of  good  ale." 


**  The  innocent  lasses,  fair  and  gay, 

Concluded  the  men  were  kind  and  free, 
Because  they  passed  the  time  away — 
A-plenty  of  cakes  and  ale  they  see ; 
For  cider  and  mead  they  then  did  call. 

And  whatever  else  the  house  afforded; 
But  Susan  was  fbrc'd  to  pay  for  all 
Out  of  the  money  she  had  hoarded. 

Hoarded^  hoarded,  money  she  had  hoarded; 

It  made  her  sing  a  doleful  ditty ; 
And  80  did  the  rest,  with  grief  opprest, 
And  was  not  that  a  pity." 

The  next  May  Day  absurdity  is  from  the  Old  Engjjsh  Burletta 
of  Midas.  My  version  bears  no  date  or  author's  name,  but  it 
shows  how  the  gods  and  mortals  did  unite  to  have  a  jolly  spree 
on  May  Day.  The  first  scene  in  the  clouds  shows  the  gods  in 
full  council,  and  opens  with  the  following  chorus : — 

^  Jove  in  his  chair. 
Of  the  sky,  Lord  Mayor, 
With  his  rods 
Men  and  gods 
Keeps  in  awe. 
When  he  winks 
Heaven  shrinks; 
When  he  speaks 
Hell^squeaks. 

Earth's  globe  is  but  his  uw." 


Whitsun  Ales,  127 

**  Cock  of  the  school 
He  bears  despotic  rule. 
His  word. 
Though  absurd. 
Must  be  law." 

In  due  time  the  more  jovial  gods  come  down  to  enjoy  a  little 
rural  felicity  and  fiin: — 

<'  All  around  the  Maypole  how  they  trot. 

Hot, 

Pot, 
And  good  ale  have  got; 

Routing, 

Shouting, 
At  you  flouting. 

Fleering, 

Jeering, 
And  what  not. 

*'  There's  old  Sileno  frisks  like  mad, 

Lad, 

Glad 
To  see  us  sad; 

Cap'ring, 

Vap'ring, 
While  Pol,  scraping. 

Coaxes 

The  lasses, 
As  he  did  the  dad." 

As  a  specimen  of  bygone  humour  the  above  u  peculiar,  but  I 
doubt  whether  it  would  be  appreciated  at  the  present  day.  It  is 
in  distinct  contrast  to  thpse  previously  given,  which  are  full  of 
life  and  interest. 

Phillips,  the  classical  author  of  the  "  Splendid  Shilling,"  and 


1 28  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

the  ••Ode  to  Cyder,"  describes  the  doings  in  Olympia  in  far  more 
stately  terms:— 

••  She  said:  the  sire  of  gods  and  men  supreme, 
With  aspect  bland,  attentive  audience  gave, 
Then  nodded  awful:  from  his  shaken  locks 
Ambrosial  fragrance  flew :  the  signal  given 
By  Ganymede  the  skinker  soon  was  ken'd; 
With  ale  he  Heaven's  capacious  goblet  crown *d, 
To  Phrygian  mood  Apollo  tun'd  his  lyre. 
The  Muses  sang  alternate,  all  carous'd, 
But  Bacchus  murmuring  left  th'  assembled  powers, 
The  separate  table  and  the  costly  bowl, 
Cool  as  the  blast  that  checks  the  budding  Spring, 
A  mockery  of  gladness  round  them  fling." 

Considering  the  origin  of  May  Day  observances,  however,  it 
is  not  surprising  that  the  gods  should  like  to  join  in  the  revelry. 
But,  alas! 

••  What's  not  destroyed  by  Time's  relentless  hand, 
Where's  Troy,  and  where's  the  Maypole  in  the  Strand  ? " 

Before  the  Maypole  was  abolished  the  nymphs  and  ttwains 
held  high  jinks. 

•'  Amid  the  area  wide  they  tooke  their  stand. 
Where  the  tall  Maypole  overiooked  the  Strand, 
But  now,  so  Anne  and  piety  ordain, 
A  church  collects  the  nymphs  of  Drury  Lane." 


••  Yet  old  Queen  Madge, 
Though  things  do  not  fadge» 

Will  serve  to  be  queen  of  a  May-pole; 
Two  Princes  of  Wales, 
For  Whitsun-alcs 

And  her  Grace  Maid-Marion  Claypole." 

— Butler. 


Whitsun  Ales.  129 

The  Stnmd  Maypole  was  struck  by  lightningy  aod  the  lower 
part  was  given  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton  to  make  a  stand  for  his  great 
telescope.  On  the  site  of  the  Maypole  the  Church  of  St.  Mary- 
le-Strand,  opposite  Somerset  House,  was  built ;  but  the  remains 
of  Maypole  Alley  still  exist  in  name,  and  forms  one  of  the  sides 
of  the  Olympic  Theatre. 

I  doubt  much  whether  any  Maypoles  exist  in  this  country.  I 
remember  seeing  one  about  forty  years  ago,  in  the  little  parish  of 
West  Dean,  the  last  sution  before  getting  into  Salisbury,  by  the 
Romsey  branch  of  the  London  and  South-Western  Railway.  The 
old  English  obsenrances  of  May  Day,  when  Kings,  Queens,  and 
Courtiers  went  a-Maying,  are  now  as  dead  as  the  Dodo.  The 
Jack-in-the»Green  and  the  Sweeps'  celebration,  which  were  pro- 
longed m  honour  of  Mrs.  Montague  and  her  long-lost  child,  hare 
hiltn  mto  desuetude,  and  the  place  of  Jack-in-the-Green  is  vacant. 
Montgomery  celebrated  the  finding  of  the  child-sweep  in  his 
mother's  house  in  the  following  rhapsody: — 

^  Now  from  the  chimney  top  did  Edwin  peep^ 
And  'midst  the  howling  tempest  shouted  *  Sweep '! 
Haiiil  hark !  she  cried — the  wind  appeared  to  deep, 
Again  poor  Edwin  shouted  sweep!  sweep!  sweep! 
My  child !  my  child!  she  cried,  with  accents  wild! 
O,  heaven !  It  is,  it  is  my  child,  my  child." 

The  sweeps  had  occasion  to  rejoice  on  the  recovery,  and  for 
yean  were  entertained  at  Montague  House,  Portroan  Square, 
with  good  old  &re  of  roast  beef,  plum  pudding,  ale,  and  a 
shilling  besides. 

Whit-Monday  rejoicings  and  celebrations  are  still  kept  up,  in  a 
manner,  in  some  parts  of  the  country,'  and  is  the  great  day  for  the 
club  celebration,  when  the  members  in  foil  insignia  march  first  to 
the  church,  and  afterwards  celebrate  the  club  dinner.  The  sub- 
joined extracts  give  a  capital  picture  of  the  doings  of  the  day,  for 
which  I  am  indebted  to  the  late  Rev.  Mr.  Barnes'  Book  of 
Poems  in  the  Dorset  Dialect. 


1 30  In  Praise  of  Ale. 


WHITSUNTIDi  an'  ClUB  WaLKEN'. 

Eet,  ]aflt  Whit-Moodayy  I  an'  Meary 

Got  up  bettroes  to  miDd  the  deaiiy; 

An'  gi'ed  the  milk^  pails  a  scrub. 

An'  dress'd  an'  went  to  see  the  club. 

Vor  up  at  public-house,  by  ten 

O'clock  the  pleace  wer  vull  o'  men, 

A-dress'd  to  goo  to  church  an'  dine, 

An'  walk  about  the  pleace  in  line. 

Zoo  off*  they  started,  two  an'  two. 

We'  painted  poles  an'  knots  o'  blue. 

An'  girt  silk  flags, — I  wish  ray  box 

'D  a-got  em  all  in  ceapes  an  frocks, — 

A-weav^n  wide  an'  flapp^  loud 

In  playsome  winds  abore  the  crowd ; 

While  fifes  did  squeak  an'  drums  did  rumble, 

An'  deep  beezzoons  did  grunt  an'  grumble. 

An'  all  the  vo'k  in  gathr^n  crowds 

Rick'd  up  the  doust  in  smeechy  clouds, 

That  slowly  rose  an'  spread  abrode 

In  stream^n  air  above  the  road. 

An'  then  at  church  there  wer  sich  lots 

O'hats  a-hang^n  up  wi'  knots. 

An'  poles  a-stood  so  thick  as  iver 

The  rushes  stood  beside  a  rirer. 

An'  Mr.  Goodman  gi'ed  em  wam^n 

To  spend  their  eren^  lik'  their  mom^n ; 

An'  not  to  pray  wi  mom^n  tongues, 

An'  then  to  swear  wi'  evendn  lungs; 

Nor  vu'st  sheake  hands,  to  let  the  wrist 

Lift  up  at  last  a  bruis^  vist 

Vor  clubs  were  all  a-mean'd  vor  friends. 

He  twold  em,  an'  vor  better  ends 

Than  twit'en  To'k  an'  pick^n  quarrels, 

An'  tippl^n  cups  an'  empt^n  barrels, — 


Whitsun  Ales.  1 3 1 

Vor  meak^n  woone  man  do  another 

In  need  the  kindness  ov  a  brother. 

An*  after  church  they  went  to  dine 

'Ithin  the  long-wall'd  room  behine 

The  poblic-house,  where  you  remember, 

We  had  our  dance  back  last  December. 

An'  there  they  meadc  sich  stunnen  clatters 

Wr  knives  an'  forks,  an'  pleates  an'  platters; 

An'  waiters  ran,  an'  beer  did  pass 

Vrom  tap  to  jug,  vroro  jug  to  glass; 

An'  when  they  took  away  the  dishes, 

They  drink'd  good  healths,  an'  wish'd  good  wishes. 

To  all  the  girt  vo'k  o'  the  land, 

An'  all  good  things  vo'k  took  in  hand; 

An'  woone  cried  hip,  hip,  hip!  an'  hollow'd. 

An'  tothers  all  struck  in,  an'  yoUow'd ; 

An'  grabb'd  their  drink  wi'  eager  clutches. 

An'  swigg'd  it  wi'  sich  hearty  glutches. 

As  vo'k  stark  mad  wi'  pweison  stuff. 

That  thought  theirzelves  not  mad  enough. 

An'  after  that  they  went  all  out 

In  rank  agean,  an'  walk'd  about, 

An'  gi'ed  zome  parish  vo'k  a  call; 

An'  then  went  down  to  Narley  Hall, 

An'  had  zome  beer,  an'  danc'd  between 

The  elem  trees  upon  the  green. 

An'  down  along  the  road  they  done 

All  sorts  o'  mad-cap  things  vor  fun. 

An'  danc'd,  a  pok^n  out  their  poles, 

An'  push^n  bwoys  down  into  holes; 

An'  Sammy  Stubbs  come  out  o'  rank. 

An'  kiss'd  me  up  agean  the  bank. 

A  saucy  chap;  I  han't  vor'gied  en 

Not  yet — in  short,  I  han't  a-zeed  en. 

Zoo  in  the  dusk  ov  evenin,  zome 

Went  back  to  drink,  an'  zome  went  whome. 


I  2 


T32  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

These  ballads  were  written  m  the  days  when  simple  faith  pre- 
vailed. Friar  Bacon  wrote  a  satire  on  the  degeneracy  of  the  times 
in  which  he  lived.  What  would  he  have  written  now  when 
Holland  butter  and  oleomargarine  are  palmed  off*  as  the  **  best 
Dorset,''  and  Yankee  cheese  as  the  "  best  Cheddar"? 

"  Then  oates  were  knowne  from  rie, 

And  barley  from  the  wheate; 
A  cheese  cake  and  a  pie 

Were  held  good  country  meate. 
When  ale,  and  spice,  and  curdes,  and  creame, 
Would  make  a  schoUer  make  a  theame. 

"  Then  John,  and  Joan,  and  Madge, 

Were  call'd  the  merry  crew, 
That  with  no  drink  coulde  fadge. 

But  where  the  fat  they  knew ; 
And  though  they  knew  who  brew'd  the  ale. 
Yet  it  must  stand  till  it  were  stale." 


**  Let  the  rich  deride,  the  proud  disdain. 
The  simple  pleasures  of  the  lowly  train: 
To  me  more  dear,  congenial  to  my  heart, 
One  native  charm  than  all  the  gloss  of  art" 

Edward  Loveybond's  elegy  on  old  May  Day  forms  a  fitting 
dirge  for  bygone  pleasures: — 

The  Tears  of  Old  May-Day. 

Led  by  the  jocund  train  of  vernal  hours. 
And  vernal  Airs,  uprose  the  gentle  May ; 

Blushing  she  rose,  and  blushing  rose  the  flow'rs 
That  sprung  spontaneous  in  the  genial  ray. 

Her  locks  with  heav'n's  ambrosial  de\K'8  were  bright. 
And  amorous  Zephyrs  flutter'd  on  her  breast; 

With  ev'ry  shifting  gleam  of  morning  light, 
The  colours  shifted  of  her  rainbow  vest 


Whitsun  Ales.  133 

Imperial  ensigni  grac'd  her  fnuling  fornix 
A  golden  key,  and  golden  wand  she  bore; 

This  charms  to  peace  each  sullen  eastern  storm. 
And  that  unlocks  the  summer's  copious  store. 

Onward  in  conscious  majesty  she  came. 
The  grateful  honours  of  mankind  to  taste; 

To  gather  ^rest  wreaths  of  future  ^me. 

And  blend  fresh  triumphs  with  her  glories  past. 

Vain  hope !  no  more  in  choral  bands  unite 

Her  virgin  yot'ries,  and  at  early  dawn. 
Sacred  to  May  and  Love's  mysterious  rite. 

Brush  the  light  dew-drops  from  the  spangled  lawn. 

To  her  no  more  Augusta's  wealthy  pride 
Pours  the  full  tribute  from  Potost's  mine; 

Nor  fresh-blown  garlands  village  maids  provide, 
A  purer  offering,  at  her  rustic  shrine. 

No  more  the  Maypole's  verdant  height  around 
To  valour's  games  th'  ambitious  youth  advance; 

No  merry  bells  and  tambors'  sprightlier  sound 
Wake  the  loud  carol,  and  the  sportive  dance. 

Sudden  in  pensive  sadness  drooped  her  head, 
Faint  on  her  cheeks  the  blushing  crimson  dy'd: 

**  O  !  chaste  victorious  triumphs  !  whither  fled  ? 
My  maiden  honours,  whither  gone  ? "  she  cry'd. 

Ah !  once  to  fame  and  bright  dominion  bom, 
The  Earth  and  smiling  Ocean  saw  me  rise. 

With  time  coeval  and  the  star  of  mom. 
The  first,  the  direst  daughter  of  the  skies. 

Then,  when  at  heaven's  prolific  mandate  sprung, 

The  radiant  beam  of  new-created  May, 
Celestial  harps,  to  airs  of  triumphs  strung, 

Hail'd  the  glad  dawn,  and  angels  calPd  me  May. 


1 34  In  Praise  of  Ale. 


For  e?er  then  I  led  the  codsudi  year. 

Saw  Youth,  and  Joy,  and  Love's  enchanting  wiles; 
Saw  the  mild  Graces  in  my  train  appear. 

And  Infant  Beauty  brighten  in  my  smiles. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

But  chief  in  Europe,  and  in  Europe's  pride, 
My  Albion's  fiiTOur'd  realms,  I  rose  ador'd; 

And  pour'd  my  wealth,  to  other  climes  deny'd, 
From  Amalthea's  horn  with  plenty  stor'd. 

•  •  ■  •  •  •  • 

Do  morning  suns  in  ruddier  glory  rise? 

Does  ev'ning  fan  her  with  serener  gales? 
Do  clouds  drop  fatness  from  the  wealthier  skies  ? 

Or  wantons  Plenty  in  her  happier  vales? 

Then  Britain — here  she  ceas'd.     Indignant  grief, 
And  parting  pangs  her  falt'ring  tongue  supprest; 

Veil'd  m  an  amber  cloud,  she  sought  relief, 
And  tears,  and  silent  anguish  told  the  rest 


'35 


cHArrsft  VI. 
POLITICAL. 

**  Nnov  Knife-Grinder.    /  jbaS  he  glad  to  drhd  jrowr  honour's 
healih  in 
A  pot  of  hear i  \f  J^^  will  give  me  sixpence, 
Bui ^  for  my  part^  I  never  Itke  to  meddle  with  politics ^  sir. 
Friend  OF  Humanity,  /give  thee  sixpence  P     Nay!  PU  see  thee 
damned  first,** 

Beer,  od  account  of  its  being  an  exciaeable  article,  and  a  very 
important  factor  in  the  revenue,  hat  always  given  rise  to  an 
immense  amount  of  political  rancour  whenever  a  ChanceUor  of 
the  Exchequer  has  attempted  to  *'  raise  the  wind "  by  means 
of  malt  and  hop  productions.  Of  these  songs  I  shall  deal 
in  due  course.  The  most  virulent  political  songs,  however, 
were  composed  and  sung  during  the  Restoration  period,  after  the 
downfall  of  Cromwell  and  his  Puritan  following,  when  the  Book 
of  Sports  was  reopened  and  jollities  revived,  and,  as  Bishop  Earle 
says  in  his  '<  Microcosmographie  " — "  A  plain  country  fellow, 
or  downright  clown,  esteems  Sunday  a  day  to  make  merry  in, 
and  thinks  a  bagpipe  as  essential  to  it  as  evening  prayer.  He 
walks  very  solemnly  after  service,  with  his  hands  coupled  behind 
him,  and  censures  (criticises)  the  dancing  of  his  parish."  The 
Puritans,  rightly  or  wrongly,  had  the  credit  of  loving  good 
liquor,  on  account  of  Cromwell's  association  with  the  brewing 
inteiest,  and  in  his  younger  days  of  knowing  how  to  prepare  and 
enjoy  it  right  royally.  The  following  selection  shows  the  feeling 
that  prevailed  when  the  Protector's  reign  ceased.  They  belong  to 
the  <^Rump"  class  of  songs,  which  are  rather  too  full-flavoured  for 
the  present  time,  so  that  I  have  been  compelled  to  make  omissions. 


1 36  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  most  popular  songs  were  those  headed  the  "  Good  Old 
Cause,"  «'  Brewer,"  and  «  Joan's  Ale." 


The  Good  Old  Cause. 

Now  Lambert's  sunk,  and  valiant  Monk 

Does  ape  his  general  Cromwel, 
And  Arthur's  court,  'cause  time  is  short, 

Does  rage  like  devils  from  hell ; 
Let's  marie  the  fate,  and  course  of  State, 
Who  rises  when  t'other  is  sinking. 
And  believe,  when  this  is  past, 
'Twill  be  our  turn  at  last 
To  bring  the  good  old  cause  by  drinking. 

First,  red-nos'd  Nol  he  swallowed  all, 

His  colour  showed  he  lov'd  it. 
But  Dick  bis  son,  as  he  were  none, 

Gav't  off  and  hath  reprov'd  it; 
But  that  hu  foes  made  bridge  of 's  nose. 
And  cry'd  him  down  for  a  protector. 
Proving  him  to  be  a  fool. 
That  would  undertake  to  rule, 
And  not  drink  and  fight  like  Hector. 

The  Grecian  lad  he  drank  like  mad, 
Minding  no  work  above  it, 

A  question  he  kill'd  Ephestion 
Because  he'd  not  approve  it; 
He  got  command  where  God  had  land, 
And  like  a  maudlin  yonker. 

When  he  tippled  all  and  wept, 
He  laid  him  down  to  sleep, 
Having  no  more  worlds  to  conquer. 

Rump  Parliament  would  needs  invent 
An  oath  of  abjuration, 


Political.  137 

But  obedience  and  allegiance 

Are  now  come  into  fashion ; 
Then  here's  a  boul  with  heart  and  soul 
To  Charles,  and  let  all  say  "  Amen  *'  to't; 
Though  they  brought  the  father  down 
From  a  triple  kingdom  crown, 
We'll  drink  the  son  up  again  to't. 


Thb  Brewer. 

(From  D'Urphey's  Collection.) 

There's  many  a  clinking  verse  is  made. 
In  honour  of  the  Blaeksmlh*s  trade, 
But  more  of  the  Brewer  may  be  said; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

I  need  not  much  of  this  repeat; 
The  Blacksmith  cannot  be  complete, 
Unless  the  Brewer  do  give  him  a  heat ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

When  I  snug  unto  the  Forge  doth  come. 
Unless  the  Brewer  doth  liquor  him  home, 
He'll  never  strike  my  pot,  and  thy  pot,  down ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Of  aU  professions  in  the  town. 
The  Brewer's  trade  hath  gain'd  renown ; 
His  liquor  reaches  up  to  the  crown ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Many  new  lords  from  him  there  did  spring, 
Of  all  the  Trades  he  was  still  their  king ; 
For  the  Brewer  had  the  world  in  a  sling ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 


138  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

He  scorneth  all  laws  and  marehall  stops, 
But  whips  an  army  as  round  as  tops, 
And  cuts  off  his  foes  as  thick  as  hops; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

He  dires  for  Riches  down  to  the  Bottom, 
And  crys  my  masters  when  he's  got  'em; 
Let  every  Tub  stand  upon  his  own  Bottom ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

In  warlike  acts  he  scorns  to  stoop, 
For  when  his  army  begins  to  droop, 
He  draws  them  up  as  round  as  a  hoop; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

The  Jewish  Scot  that  scorns  to  eat 
The  flesh  of  swme,  and  Brewers'  beat; 
'Twas  the  sign  of  his  Hogshead  made  'em  retreat ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Poor  Jockey  and  his  Basket  Hilt 
Was  beaten,  and  much  blood  was  spilt ; 
And  their  bodies  like  barrels  did  run  a  tilt; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Though  Jemmy  gave  the  first  assault. 
The  Brewer  at  last  made  him  to  halt ; 
And  gave  them  what  the  cat  left  in  the  malt ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

They  cxfd  that  the  Anti-Christ  came  to  settle 
Religion  in  a  cooler  or  a  kettle ; 
For  his  nose  and  copper  were  both  of  one  metal ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

For  bottle  ale,  though  it  be  windy, 
Wherof  I  cannot  choose  but  mind  ye, 
I  would  not  have  it  left  behind  ye ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 


Political.  1 39 

For  couDtiy  alet,  as  that  of  Chess, 
Or  of  Darby  you'll  confess. 
The  more  you  drink,  you'll  need  the  less ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

But  one  thmg  must  be  thought  upon 
For  morning  draught  when  all  is  done, 
A  pot  of  purl  for  Harrison ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Some  Christian  kings  began  to  quake. 
And  said  with  the  Brewer  no  quarrel  we'll  make, 
Well  let  him  alone,  as  he  brews  let  him  bake ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

He  hath  a  strong  and  very  stout  heart. 
And  thought  to  be  made  an  emperor  fbr't ; 
But  the  devil  put  a  spoke  in  his  cart ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

If  any  intended  to  do  him  disgrace. 
His  fury  would  take  off  his  head  in  the  place; 
He  always  did  carry  his  furnace  in  his  Bice; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

But  yet,  by  the  way,  you  must  understand, 
He  kept  his  foes  so  under  command ; 
That  Pride  could  never  get  the  upper  hand; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

He  was  a  stout  Brewer,  of  whom  we  may  brag. 
But  now  he  is  hurried  away  with  a  Hag; 
He  brews  in  a  bottle  and  bakes  in  a  Bag ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

And  now  may  all  stout  soldiers  say. 
Farewell  the  glory  of  the  day ; 
For  the  Brewer  himself  is  turned  to  clay; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 


1 40  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Thuf  fell  the  brave  Brewer,  the  bold  son  of  slaughter. 
We  need  not  to  fear  what  shall  follow  after; 
For  he  dealt  all  his  time  in  fire  and  water ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

And  if  his  successor  had  had  but  his  might. 
Then  we  had  not  been  in  such  pitiful  plight; 
But  he  was  found  nuny  grains  too  light; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Let's  leave  off  singing  and  drink  off*  our  bub. 
We'll  call  up  a  reckoning  and  every  man  club, 
For  I  think  I  have  told  you  a  tale  of  a  Tub ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Here  is  another  version,  once  very  popular  among  the  Cavaliers, 
under  the  title  of  the  "Protecting  Brewer '*: — 

A  Brewer  may  be  as  bold  as  Hector, 
When  he  has  drunk  off  his  cup  of  nectar. 
And  a  Brewer  may  be  the  Lord  Protector; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Now  here  remains  the  strangest  thing. 
How  this  Brewer  about  his  liquor  did  bring, 
To  be  an  emperor  or  a  king; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

According  to  Hudibras,  the  swords  of  the  Commonwealth 
were  general  utility  weapons : — 

It  was  a  serviceable  dudgeon 
Either  for  fighting  or  for  drudging: 
When  it  had  stabbed  or  broke  a  head, 
It  would  scrape  trenchers  or  chip  bread. 
Toast  cheese,  or  bacon ;  though  it  were 
To  bait  a  mouse  trap  'twould  not  care: 
'Twonld  make  clean  shoes^  and  in  the  earth 
Set  leeks  and  onions  and  so  forth : 


Political.  1 4 1 

It  had  been  'prentice  to  a  brewer, 
Where  this,  and  much  more  it  did  endure. 

Another  poet  gives  a  somewhat  simiiar  verrion  of  the  general 
utility  purposes  which  the  armour  of  the  period  senred: — 

In  days  of  old,  our  Withers  went  to  war. 
Expecting  sturdy  blows  and  hardy  fare: 
Their  beef  they  often  in  their  morions  stew'd, 
And  in  their  basket-hilts  their  beverage  brew'd. 

In  peace  as  in  war,  the  insignia  of  office  served  as  receptacles 
for  liquor,  the  orbs  which  surmounted  the  wands  of  office  of  high 
dignitaries  were  converted  into  drinking  vessels,  similarly  to  those 
globes  which  headed  the  staves  of  the  running  footmen  of  the 
period. 

Hudibras  himselff  when  taken  prisoner  at  Exeter  later  on,  was 
ransomed  by  a  barrel  of  ale. 

**  Have  I,''  quoth  he,  <*been  u'en  in  fight, 
And  for  so  many  moons  lain  by't. 
And  when  all  other  means  did  fail, 
Have  been  exchanged  for  tubs  of  ale." 

According  to  BelPs  Annotation,  this  identifies  Hudibras  with 
Sir  Samuel  Luke. 

I  have  appropriated  the  following,  verbatim  el  Bleratim^  with 
notes  from  Percy: — 

The  Sale  of  the  Rsbeluous  Household  Stuff. 

And  here  is  the  bitt  and  the  bridle. 

And  curb  of  dissimulation; 
And  here's  the  trunk-hose  of  the  rump. 

And  their  fair  dissembling  cloak, 
And  a  Presbyterian  jump. 

With  an  Independent  smock. 

Says  old  Simon  the  King,  &c. 


1 4  2  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

Will  you  buy  a  conscience  oft  turn'd. 

Which  acir'd  the  high  court  of  justice, 
And  stretch'd  until  England  it  mourn'd? 

And  Hell  will  buy  that  if  the  worst  is. 
Here's  Joan  Cromwell's  *  kitching-stuff  tub, 

Wherein  is  the  fat  of  the  Ruropers, 
With  which  old  Noll's  horns  she  did  rub, 

When  he  was  got  drunk  with  false  bumpers. 

Says  old  Simon  the  King,  &c 

Here's  the  purse  of  the  public  faith; 

Here's  the  model  of  the  Sequestration, 
When  the  old  wives  upon  their  good  troth, 

Lent  thimbles  to  ruine  the  nation. 
Here's  Dick  Cromwell's  Protectorship, 

And  here  are  Lambert's  commissions. 
And  here  is  Hugh  Peters,  his  scrip* 

Cramm'd  with  the  tumultuous  Petitions. 

Says  old  Simon  the  King,  &c. 

And  here  are  old  Noll's  brewing  vessels, 

And  here  are  his  dray  and  his  slings ; 
Here  are  Hewson's  awl,  and  his  bristles;  f 

With  diverse  other  odd  things : 
And  what  is  the  price  doth  belong 

To  all  these  matters  before  ye? 
I'll  sell  them  for  an  old  old  song, 

And  so  do  I  end  my  story. 

Says  old  Simon  the  King,  5cc. 

This  sarcastic  collection  of  triumphant  loyalty  is  printed  from 
an  old  black  letter  copy  in  the  Pepys'  Collection,  corrected  by 

*  This  was  a  cant  name  given  to  Cromwell's  wife  by  the  Royalists, 
though  her  name  was  Elizabeth.  She  was  taxed  with  exchanging  the 
kitchen  stuff  for  the  candles  used  in  the  Protector's  household,  etc.  See 
GentUnuHt  Afafrtntime  for  March  17SS,  p.  141. 

t  Colonel  Hewton  b  said  to  have  been  originally  a  cobbler. 


Political.  143 

two  otherty  one  of  which  is  prescnred  in  A  Choice  Collection  of  One 
Hundred  and  Twenty  Loyal  Songi^  &c.,  1684,  i2mo — to  the 
tune  of  *<  Old  Simon  the  King." 

Joan* 8  Ale. 

From  the  many  versions  of  this  song  which  are  extant,  and 
reproduced  in  one  form  or  another  in  most  coUecdoDSy  the  song 
or  lampoon  must  have  been  immensely  popular. 

The  full  title  of  this  ballad,  as  given  by  Chappell,  is — 
*<  Joan's  Ale  is  New;  or  a  New  Merry  Medley,  shewing  the 
Power,  the  Strength,  the  Operation,  and  the  Virtue  that  remains 
in  Good  Ale,  which  is  accounted  the  Mother-Drink  of  England.". 

**  All  you  that  do  this  merry  ditty  view, 
Taste  of  Joan's  ale,  for  it  is  strong  and  new.'' 

Bell  says  of  this  song: — 

**  From  the  names  of  Nolly  and  Joan,  and  the  allusion  to  ale, 
we  are  inclined  to  consider  this  popular  old  song  as  a  lampoon 
levelled  at  Cromwell  and  his  wife,  whom  the  Royalist  party 
nick-named  *  Joan.'  The  Protector's  acquaintances  (depicted  as 
low  and  vulgar  tradesmen)  are  here  humorously  represented  paying 
him  a  congratulatory  visit  on  his  change  of  fortune,  and  regaling 
themselves  with  the  *  brewer's  ale.' " 

There  were  six  jovial  tradesmen. 

And  they  all  sat  them  down  to  dnnking, 

For  they  were  a  jovial  crew; 
They  sat  themselves  down  to  be  merry; 
And  they  called  for  a  bottle  of  sherry. 
You're  welcome  as  the  hills,  says  Nolly, 

While  Joan's  ale  is  new,  brave  boys. 

While  Joan's  ale  is  new. 

The  first  that  came  in  was  a  soldier. 
With  his  firelock  over  his  shoulder ; 
Sure  no  one  could  be  bolder, 

And  a  long  broadsword  he  drew . 


1 44  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

He  swore  he  would  fight  for  England's  ground. 
Before  the  nation  should  be  run  down. 
He  boldly  drank  their  healths  all  round. 
While  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

The  next  that  came  in  was  a  hatter. 
Sure  no  one  could  be  blacker, 
And  he  began  to  chatter 

Among  the  jovial  crew: 
He  threw  his  hat  upon  the  ground. 
And  swore  every  man  should  spend  his  pound, 
And  boldly  drank  their  healths  all  round, 

While  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

The  next  that  came  in  was  a  dyer, 
And  he  sat  himself  down  by  the  fire, 
For  it  was  his  heart's  desire 

To  drink  with  the  jovial  crew: 
He  told  the  landlord  to  his  face, 
The  chimney-comer  should  be  his  place. 
And  there  he'd  sit  and  dye  his  face, 

While  Joan's  ale  was  new. 


The  next  that  came  in  was  a  tinker, 
And  he  was  no  small  beer  drinker, 
And  he  was  no  strong  ale  shrinker 

Among  the  jovial  crew. 
For  his  brass  nails  were  made  of  metal, 
And  he  swore  he'd  go  and  mend  a  kettle; 
Good  heart,  how  his  hammer  and  nails  did  rattle ! 

While  Joan's  ale  was  new ! 

The  next  that  came  in  was  a  tailor. 
With  his  bodkin,  shears,  and  thimble; 
He  swore  he  would  be  nimble 
Among  the  jovial  crew: 


Political.  1 4  5 

They  at  and  they  called  for  ale  so  stout, 
Till  the  poor  tailor  was  almost  broke. 
And  was  forced  to  go  and  pawn  his  coat. 
While  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

The  next  that  came  in  was  a  ragman, 
With  his  rag-bag  over  his  shoulder; 
Sure,  no  one  could  be  bolder 

Among  the  jovial  crew. 
They  sat  and  called  for  pots  and  glasses. 
Till  they  were  ^1  drunk  as  asses, 
And  burnt  the  old  ragman's  bag  to  ashes. 

While  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

Here  is  another  and  entirely  different  version.  It  was  entered 
on  the  26th  October  i  594,  by  John  Danter,  on  the  books  of  the 
Stationers'  Company,  **  for  his  copie,  a  ballet  intituled  < Jone's 
Ale  is  Newe.'  "     It  appears  also  in  D'Urfey's  Collection: — 

There  was  a  jovial  Tinker, 
Which  was  a  good  ale  drinker; 
He  never  was  a  shrinker; 
Believe  me  this  is  true. 
And  he  came  from  the  wild  of  Kent, 
When  all  his  money  was  gone  and  spent. 
Which  made  him  look  like  a  Jaek^a^Lent, 

And  JocuCi  ale  u  new^ 

And  JoafCt  ale  u  new^  Boyt^ 

And  Joan* I  ale  u  new. 

The  Tinker  he  did  settle 
Most  like  a  man  of  mettle. 
And  vowed  to  pawn  his  kettle. 

Now  mark  what  did  ensue: 
His  neighbours  they  flock'd  in  apace 
To  see  Tom  Tinker^!  comely  face, 
Where  they  drank  soundly  for  a  space, 

Whilst  Joan's  ale  was  new. 


1 46  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  Cobbler  and  the  Brown  man. 

Came  next  into  the  room,  man, 

And  said  they  would  drink  for  boon,  man. 

Let  each  one  take  his  due; 
But  when  good  liquor  they  had  found. 
They  cast  their  caps  upon  the  ground, 
And  so  the  Tinker  he  drank  round. 

Whilst  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

The  Ragman  being  weary 
With  the  burden  he  did  cany, 
He  swore  he  would  be  merry, 

And  spend  a  shilling  or  two ; 
And  he  told  his  hostess  to  her  face. 
The  chimney-comer  was  his  place, 
And  he  began  to  drink  apace. 

And  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

The  Pedler  he  drew  nigher. 

For  it  was  his  desire 

To  throw  the  rags  i'  th'  fire, 

And  bum  the  bundle  blue; 
So  whilst  they  drank  whole  flashes, 
And  threw  about  the  glasses, 
The  rags  were  bumt  to  ashes. 

And  Joan's  ale  was  new. 


Part  II. 

And  than  came  in  the  Hatter, 
To  see  what  was  the  matter; 
He  scorned  to  dnnk  cold  water, 

Amongst  that  jovial  crew ; 
And  like  a  man  of  courage  stout. 
He  took  the  quart-pot  by  the  snout. 
And  never  left  till  the  glass  was  out 

Oh,  Joan's  ale  was  new. 


Pditical.  147 


The  Taylor  being  Dimble» 

With  bodkin,  ahean,  and  thimble. 

He  did  no  whit  dissemble ; 

I  think  his  name  was  True. 
He  said  that  he  was  like  to  choak, 
And  he  called  so  fast  for  lap  and  smoak. 
Until  he  had  pawn'd  the  vinegar  cloak. 

For  Joan's  ale  was  new. 


Then  came  a  pitiful  Porter, 
Which  often  did  resort  there; 
Quoth  he,  I'll  show  some  sport  here, 

Amongst  the  jovial  crew. 
The  Porter  he  had  very  bad  luck. 
Before  that  it  was  ten  o'clock; 
The  fool  got  drunk  and  lost  his  frock. 

For  Joan*s  ale  was  new. 


The  bonny  brave  Shoemaker, 

A  brave  tobacco  taker, 

He  scom'd  to  be  a  Quaker; 

I  think  his  name  was  Hugh, 
He  called  for  liquor  in  so  fast. 
Till  he  forgot  his  awl  and  last. 
And  up  the  reckoning  he  did  cast. 

Whilst  Joan's  ale  was  new. 


And  then  came  in  a  Weaver, 
You  never  saw  a  braver. 
With  a  silkman  and  a  glover, 

Tom  Tinker  for  to  view ; 
And  so  to  welcome  him  to  town. 
They  every  man  spent  half  a  crown. 
And  so  the  drink  went  merrily  down. 

And  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

K  2 


1 48  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Then  came  a  dnioken  Dutchmao, 
And  he  would  have  a  touch  man. 
But  soon  he  took  too  muchy  man. 

Which  made  them  after  rue; 
He  drank  so  long,  as  I  suppose. 
Till  greasie  drops  fell  from  his  nose, 
And  like  a  beast  befbul'd  his  hose. 

Whilst  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

A  Welchman  he  came  next,  sir, 
With  joy  and  sorrow  mixt,  sir, 
Who  being  partly  vex'd,  sir, 

He  out  his  dagger  drew; 
Cui4  pluiter^a''multf  quoth  Taffy  then, 
A  Welchman  is  a  shentleman. 
Comes,  hostess,  fill's  the  other  can, 

For  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

Thus  like  to  men  of  courage  stout. 
Courageously  they  drank  about, 
*Till  such  time  as  the  ale  was  out. 

As  I  may  tell  to  you. 
And  when  the  business  was  done. 
They  ev'ry  man  departed  home. 
And  promised  Joan  again  to  come. 

When  she  had  brew'd  anew. 

The  following  version  shows  another  variation  of  the  same 
song:— 

There  were  three  jolly  fellows 
Came  o'er  the  hills  together, 
Came  o'er  the  hills  together. 

To  join  this  jovial  crew. 
They  ordered  the  quarts  and  bottles  of  sherry, 
To  help  them  o'er  the  hills  so  merry, 
To  help  them  o'er  the  hills  so  merry, 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new,  my  boys, 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new. 


Political.  1 49 

The  fint  that  came  was  a  dnkei. 
And  be  was  do  small  beer  drinker. 
And  be  was  no  small  beer  drinker, 

To  join  this  jovial  crew. 
{He  tmd)  Have  you  got  any  pots  or  kettles  to  fettle, 
My  rivets  are  made  of  the  very  best  meul, 
And  all  the  holes  I'll  quickly  settle. 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new,  my  boys. 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

The  next  that  came  was  a  dyer. 
He  sat  himself  down  by  the  fire. 
He  sat  himself  down  by  the  fire. 

To  join  this  jovial  crew. 
The  landlady  told  him  to  his  face. 
The  chimney  comer  was  his  place. 
And  there  he  might  sit  and  dye  his  old  face. 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new,  my  boys. 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new. 


The  next  that  came  was  a  hatter, 
And  DO  man  could  be  fatter, 
And  DO  man  could  be  fatter. 

To  join  this  jovial  crew. 
He  threw  his  old  hat  upon  the  ground. 
And  swore  each  man  should  spend  a  crown, 
And  drink  the  health  of  all  around. 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new,  my  boys. 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

The  next  that  came  was  a  soldier, 
With  his  firelock  over  his  shoulder. 
With  his  firelock  over  his  shoulder, 

To  join  the  jovial  crew. 
The  landlady's  daughter  then  came  in, 
She  kissed  him  over  the  lips  and  chin, 


ISO  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  quarts  of  ale  came  tumbling  in, 
When  Joan't  ale  was  new,  my  boys, 
When  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

The  last  that  came  was  a  mason, 
And  his  hammer  it  did  want  facing. 
His  hammer  it  did  want  facing, 

To  join  the  jovial  crew. 
He  rattled  his  mallet  against  the  wall, 
He  hoped  the  churches  and  steeple  would  fall. 
And  then  there  would  be  work  for  all. 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new,  my  boys, 

When  Joan's  ale  was  new. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  there  is  somewhat  of  a  sameness 
about  these  songs.  The  allusions  were  probably  local,  and  the 
meaning  thereof  as  much  lost  as  are  those  of  Rabelais,  or  of  Dean 
Swift  in  the  great  bulk  of  his  political  writings. 

Tinkers  have  always  been  notable  for  their  drinking  powers. 
There  was  Christopher  Sly,  who  figures  prominendy  in  the 
prologue  to  the  ''  Taming  of  the  Shrew/'  He  went  off  into  a 
drunken  sleep,  and  woke  up  to  find  himself  a  duke.  Still  nature 
will  out,  and  with  his  throat  and  mouth  as  dry  as  a  limekiln,  and 
the  best  of  wines  before  him,  he  cried  out,  *'  For  God's  sake,  a 
pot  of  smallest  ale ; "  and,  *'  Once  again,  a  pot  of  smallest  ale." 
Sly  drank  small  beer,  as  our  ancestors  the  three-bottle  men  drank 
claret,  as  a  sobering  tipple,  on  the  principle  of  taking  a  hair  of  the 
dog  that  bit  you. 

^  So  when  two  dogs  are  fighting  in  the  streets. 
With  a  third  dog  one  of  the  two  dogs  meets; 
With  angry  tooth  he  bites  him  to  the  bone. 
And  this  dog  smarts  for  what  that  dog  has  done." 

Then  again  there  was  the  needy  knife-grinder,  who  had  no  story 
of  political  wrong  to  tell  the  philanthropist,  except  that  he  got 
drunk  at  the  Chequers.  Whereupon,  as  he  had  no  political  griev- 


Political.  1 5 1 

ance,  the  friend  to  humanity  said  he  would  **  see  him  damned 
before  he  gave  sixpence  to  get  a  pot  of  ale/'  or  words  to  that 
effect.  Then  there  was  that  noted  tinker  who  entertained  King 
James  unawares. 

Here  is  a  Yorkshire  song  of  the  same  period,  minus  a  few 
necessary  excisions. 

Thb  Praise  of  Hull  Ale. 

Let's  wet  the  whisde  of  the  muse 
That  sings  the  praise  of  every  juice 
This  house  affords  for  mortal  use; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Here's  ale  of  Hull,  which,  'tis  well  known, 
Kept  King  and  Keyser  out  of  town, 
Now  it  will  never  hurt  the  Crown ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Here's  Lambeth  ale  to  cool  the  maw. 
And  beer  as  spruce  as  e'er  you  saw, 
But  mum  as  good  as  man  can  draw ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Here's  scholar  that  has  doft  his  gown, 
And  donn'd  his  cloak  and  come  to  town. 
Till  all's  up,  drunk  his  college  down ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Here's  North  down,  which  in  many  a  case 
Pulls  all  the  blood  into  the  face. 
Which  blushing  is  a  sign  of  grace; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Here's  that  by  some  bold  brandy  hight, 
Which  Dutchmen  use  in  case  of  fright. 
Will  make  a  coward  for  to  fight; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 


152  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Here's  China  ale  surpaaseth  far 
What  Munden  vents  at  Temple  Bar, 
'Tis  good  for  lords'  and  ladies'  ware; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Here's  of  Efiom  will  not  fox 

You  more  than  what's  drawn  from  the  cocks 

Of  NudMeioUf  yet  cures  smallpox ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

For  ease  of  heart,  here's  that  will  do't, 
A  liquor  you  may  have  to  boot. 
Invites  you  or  the  devil  to't ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Two  reprints  which  follow,  show  the  tricks  of  the  trade  as 
practised  by  two  arrant  rogues,  and  the  result  of  closing  the 
Houses  on  Sundays,  as  set  forth  in — 


The  Lamentable  Complaints  of  Nick  Froth  the  Tapster, 

and  rulerost  the  cooke, 

Concerning  the  restraint  lately  set  forth  against  drinking,  sotting, 
and  piping  on  the  Sabbath  day,  and  against  selling  meate. 

Printed  in  the  year  1641. 

Froth.  My  honest  fnend,  Cooke  Ruffin,  well  met  I  pray  thee, 
what  good  newes  is  stirring  ? 

Cooh,  Good  newes,  said  you  ?  I,  where  is't  ?  There  is  such 
newes  in  the  world  will  anger  thee  to  heare  of;  it  is  as  bad  as 
bad  may  be. 

Froih.  Is  there  so  ?  I  pray  thee  what  is  it  ?  Tell  me,  what- 
soever it  be. 

Cool,  Have  you  not  heard  of  the  restraint  lately  come  out 
against  us  from  the  higher  powers,  whereby  we  are  commanded 
not  to  sell  meate  nor  draw  drink  upon  Sundays,  as  we  will  answer 
the  countrary  at  our  perils  ? 


Political.  153 

Froth,  I  have  heard  that  some  such  thing  was  intended  to  be 
done,  but  never  before  knew  that  it  was  under  black  and  white.  I 
hope  there  is  no  such  matter.  Art  thou  sure  this  thy  newes 
is  true? 

Cook,  Am  I  sure  I  ever  rosted  a  hi  pig  on  a  Sunday  until 
they  eyes  dropt  out,  thinke  you  ?  S'  foot,  shall  I  not  credit  my 
owne  eyes  ? 

Froth.  I  would  thine  had  dropt  out  too  before  ever  thou  hadst 
seen  this;  and  if  this  be  your  newes,  you  might  have  kept  it,  with 
a  murrain  to  you. 

Cooi.  Nay,  why  so  chollerick,  my  friend  ?  You  told  me  you 
would  heare  me  with  patience,  whatsoever  it  were. 

Froth.  I  cry  thee  heartily  mercy,  honest  Rulerost.  I  am  sorry 
for  what  I  said.  It  was  my  passion  made  me  forget  myself  so 
much ;  but  I  hope  this  command  as  you  speake  will  not  continue 
long.     Will  it,  think  you,  Master  Cooke  ? 

Cook,  Too  long,  to  our  grief,  I  feare.  The  church-wardens, 
sidemen,  and  constables  will  so  look  to  our  red  lattices  that 
we  shall  not  dare  to  put  our  heads  out  of  doors  on  a  Sunday 
hereafter.  What  think  you,  neighbour,  is  it  not  like  to 
prove  so  ? 

Froth.  Truly  it  is  much  to  be  feared ;  but  what  do  you  think 
will  become  of  us  then,  if  these  times  hold  ? 

Cook.  Faith,  Master  Froth,  we  must  shut  up  our  doors  and 
hang  padlocks  on  them,  and  never  so  much  as  take  leave  of  our 
landlords. 

Froth,  Master  Rulerost,  I  jump  with  you  in  opinion,  for  if 
I  tarry  in  my  house  till  quarter-day,  my  landlord,  I  feare,  will 
provide  me  a  house  gratis.  I  am  very  unwilling  to  trust  him : 
he  was  always  wonderfull  kind,  and  ready  to  help  any  of  his 
debtors  to  such  a  curtesie.  To  be  plaine  with  you,  I  know  not 
in  which  of  the  compters  I  shall  keep  my  Christmas,  if  I  doe  not 
wisely,  by  running  away,  prevent  him. 

Cook.  Thou  hast  spoke  my  owne  thoughts ;  but  I  stand  not 
so  much  in  danger  of  my  griping  landlord  as  I  doe  of  Master 
Killcalf,  my  butcher.  I  am  run  into  almost  halfe-a-year's  arrer- 
ages  with  him ;  I  doe  owe  him  near  ninety  pounds  for  meat. 


154  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

which  I  have  had  of  him  at  direre  and  sundry  dinesy  as  by  his 
tally  may  more  at  lai^e  appeare. 

Froth.  I  royselfe  am  almost  as  bm  in  debt  to  my  brewer  as 
you  are  to  your  butcher :  I  had  almost  forgotten  that.  I  see  I 
am  no  man  of  this  world  if  I  tarry  in  England.  He  hath  often 
threatened  to  make  dice  of  my  bones  already,  but  ile  prevent 
him :  ile  show  him  the  bagge,  I  warrant  him. 

Coot.  He  would  rather  you  would  show  him  the  money  and 
keep  the  bagge  to  yourselfe. 

Froth.  I  much  wonder.  Master  Rulerost,  why  my  trade 
should  be  put  downe,  it  being  so  necessary  m  a  Commonwealth. 
Why,  the  noble  art  of  drinking,  it  is  the  soule  of  all  good  fellow- 
ship, the  marrow  of  a  poet's  nervs,  it  makes  a  man  as  valiant  as 
Hercules,  though  he  were  as  cowardly  as  a  Frenchman.  Besides, 
I  could  prove  it  necessary  for  any  man  sometimes  to  be  drunk ; 
for,  suppose  you  should  kill  a  man  whan  you  are  drunk,  you  shall 
never  be  hanged  for  it  until  you  are  sober :  therefore  I  thinke  it 
good  for  a  man  to  be  alwayes  drunk.  And,  besides,  it  is  the 
kindest  companion  and  friendliest  sin  of  all  the  seven ;  for  most 
sins  leave  a  man  by  some  accident  or  other  before  his  death,  but 
this  will  never  forsake  him  till  the  breath  be  out  of  his  body,  and 
lastly  a  fiill  bowle  of  stronge  beere  will  drowne  all  sorrowes. 

Cook.  Master  Nick,  you  are  mistaken,  your  trade  is  not  put 
down,  as  you  seeme  to  say :  what  is  done  is  done  to  a  good 
intent,  to  the  end  that  poore  men  that  worke  hard  all  the  weeke  for 
a  litde  money  should  not  spend  it  all  on  the  Sunday  while  they 
should  be  at  some  church,  and  so  consequently  there  will  not  be 
so  many  beggars. 

Froth.  Alack  !  you  know  all  my  profit  doth  arise  onely  upon 
Sundays ;  let  them  but  allow  me  that  privilege,  and  abridge  me 
all  the  weeke  besides.  SToot,  I  could  have  so  scowred  my 
young  sparks  up  for  a  peny  a  demy  can,  or  a  halfispint,  heapt 
with  froth.  I  got  more  by  uttering  halfe  a  barrell  in  time  of 
divine  service  then  I  could  by  a  whole  barrell  at  any  other  time, 
for  my  customers  were  glad  to  take  anything  for  money  and 
think  themselves  much  ingaged  to  me;  but  now  the  case  is 
altered. 


PoUtical.  155 

Cook,  Truly,  Master  Froth,  you  are  a  man  of  light  con- 
stitution, and  not  so  much  to  be  blamed  as  I  that  am  more  solid. 
O I  what  will  become  of  me  ?  I  now  thinke  of  the  lusty  sur- 
loins  of  roast  beefe  which  I  with  much  policy  divided  into 
innumerable  company  of  semi-slices,  by  which,  with  my  provident 
wife,  I  used  to  make  eighteen-pence  of  tliat  which  cost  me  a 
groat  (provided  I  sold  it  in  service  dme).  I  could  tell  you,  too, 
how  I  used  my  half-cans  and  my  Bloomesbury  pots,  when 
occasion  served,  and  my  smoak,  which  I  sold  dearer  than  any 
apothecary  doth  his  ph3r8ic ;  but  those  happy  days  are  now  past, 
and  therefore  no  more  of  that. 

Froih.  Well,  I  am  rid  of  one  charge  which  did  continoally 
vex  roe  by  this  means. 

Cook.  I  pray  thee  what  was  that  ? 

Froth.  Why,  Master  Rulerost,  I  was  wont  to  be  in  fee  with 
the  apparitors,  because  they  should  not  bring  me  into  the  bawdy 
court  for  selling  drink  on  Sundayes.  He  assure  you  they  used 
to  have  a  noble  quarter  of  me,  but  now  they  shall  excuse  me — 
they  are  like  to  have  no  more  quartridge  of  me ;  and,  indeed, 
the  truth  is  their  trade  begins  to  be  out  of  request  as  well  as  ours. 

Cook.  I,  trust  me,  neighbour,  I  pity  them.  I  was  as  much 
troubled  with  those  kind  of  rascals  as  yourself,  onely  I  confesse 
I  paid  them  no  quartridge  :  but  they  tickled  my  beefe — a  stone 
of  beefe  was  no  more  in  one  of  their  bellies  than  a  man  in  Paul's. 
But  now  I  must  take  occasion  to  ease  myself  of  that  charge,  and 
with  con£dence  I  will  now  bad  them  *<  Walke,  knave,  walke.'' 

Froth.  Truly,  Master  Rulerost,  it  doth  something  ease  my 
mind  when  I  thinke  that  we  have  companions  in  misery. 
Authority^  I  see,  is  quick-sighted  ;  it  can  quickly  espie  a  hole 
in  a  knave's  coate.  But,  Master  Cooke,  we  forget  ourselves ; 
it  goweth  neare  supper  time,  and  we  must  part.  I  would  tell 
you  what  I  intend  to  doe,  but  time  prevents  me :  therefore  ile 
refer  it  untill  the  next  time  we  meet,  and  so  farewell. 

The  Complaints  and  Doings  of  Hop  the  Brewer  and  Kilcalfe 
the  Butcher  form  a  fitting  sequel  to  those  of  Froth  and  Rulerost. 


156  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  Lameni'able  Complaints  of  Hop  the  Brewer 

AND  KiLCALFE  THE  BuTCHERy 

As  they  meet  by  chance  in  the  Country,  against  the  restraint 
lately  set  out  by  the  Parliament,  against  Tapsters  and 
Cookes:  which  hath  caused  them  to  cracke  their  credit, 
and  to  betake  them  to  their  heeles. 

Printed  in  the  year  1641. 

Hop,  What,  neighbour  Kilcalfe,  who  would  have  thought  to 
meet  you  here.  What  good  newes  is  there  stirring  in  London, 
I  pray,  can  you  tell  ? 

Kik.  Newes,  Mr  Hop,  there  is  great  store,  such  as  it  is,  but 
none,  I  am  sure,  that  is  good  for  you  or  me. 

Hfip.  I  hope,  Mr  Ocalfe,  there  is  none  will  prove  hurtfull 
for  us. 

Kik.  Yes,  truly,  neighbour,  there  is  ill  newes  for  us. 

Hop.  I  pray,  my  good  friend,  let  me  heare  all  the  newes,  what- 
soever it  be. 

Kile.  Why !  I  will  tell  you,  sir,  since  you  are  so  inquisitive. 
There  is  a  Bell  (and  one  of  the  greatest  in  the  town)  lately  ^ne 
finom  Aldermary  Church,  and  some  say  it  is  burst  all  in  pieces. 

H(f.  Well,  sir,  what  can  this  hurt  you  or  me  ?  But  say  this 
belle  be  broke,  it  may  be  new  cast  and  hanged,  and  all  will  be  well 
again. 

Kik.  Vtry  right,  sir,  and  this  may  be  done  with  little  charge, 
and  besides  there  are  ropes  provided  already;  there  are  three 
generous  Vintners  in  the  Parish  that  have  promised  to  defray  the 
whole  charge. 

Hop.  The  Vintners  may  afford  it,  neighbour ;  I  hear  they  pay 
no  tunnage  now  the  wine  Patent  is  put  downe.  But,  pray,  what  is 
this  newes  you  speake  of? 

Ktlc.  Why,  have  you  not  heard  of  the  restraint  that  was  lately 
set  forth  by  the  Parliament,  wherby  all  Cookes  and  Tapsters  and 
many  other  professions  are  forbidden  to  dress  meat  and  draw 
drinke  on  Sundaies  ? 

Hop.  Indeed,  I  have  heard  that  some  such  thing  was  intended. 


Political.  157 

but  I  never  heard  that  it  was  in  blacke  and  white  untill  this  houre. 
I  hope  there  is  do  such  thiog ;  is  there,  neighbour,  are  you  sure  ? 

KUc.  Sure,  say  you  !  Am  I  sure  that  ever  I  knockt  down  an 
oxe  and  cut  his  throat  on  a  Sunday  rooming,  thinkc  you  ?  S'foot, 
shall  I  not  believe  my  owne  eies : 

Hop.  I  would  they  had  beene  out,  so  thou  had'st  not  lived  to 
see  this  chance. 

Kik.  Nay,  now,  neighbour,  I  must  tell  you,  you  are  somewhat 
too  bitter ;  did  you  not  promise  to  heare  me  whatsoever  it  were, 
and  seeing  you  are  so  hot,  farewell. 

Hop.  Nay,  good  neighbour,  suy,  I  cry  thee  heartily  mercy. 
It  was  my  passion  which  made  me  so  much  forget  myself;  but  if 
this  be  true. 

KUc.  There  is  no  ifs,  'tis  true,  as  I  tell  you. 

-^Hop.  What,  then,  will  become  of  us  ? 

KUc.  Truely,  I  know  not.  Wee  must  e'en  shut  up  our  doores, 
and  never  so  much  as  take  leave  of  our  Landlordsi 

Hop.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  you  and  I  are  both  of  a  minde. 
You  have  spoke  my  owne  thoughts,  for  I  am  sure  if  I  tarry  till 
quarter-day,  my  Landlord  will  provide  me  a  house  gratis.  I 
should  bee  very  unwilling  to  accept  of  his  kindnesse,  and  hee  to 
my  knowledge  was  alwaies  very  forward  to  do  such  a  curtesie  to 
the  worst  debter  he  ever  had. 

KUc.  Truely,  Master  Hop^  I  am  not  so  much  ingaged  to  my 
Landlord  for  his  love,  as  you  to  yours ;  but  this  I  am  sure,  there 
is  a  grazier  dwelling  in  this  part  that  hath  my  hand  (downe  upon 
a  piece  of  sheepskin),  not  for  my  honesty,  but  for  some  certain 
money  which  I  owe  him,  and  if  I  don't  wisely  prevent  him,  I 
know  not  which  of  the  counters  I  am  like  to  keepe  my 
Christmas  in. 

Hop,  I  pray.  Master  Kilcafe,  can  you  prevent  him  ? 

KUc.  Why,  He  show  him  the  bag.  He  run  man ;  dost  under- 
stand me? 

Hop.  Yes,  very  well,  but  I  believe  that  hee  had  rather  you 
would  show  him  his  money,  and  then  he  would  understand  you. 

KUc,  But  by  his  favour  he  shall  not  understand  nor  stand  under 
any  nx>ney  of  mine,  if  I  can  keep  it  from  him. 


158  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Hop.  But,  I  pray,  tell  me,  how  came  you  so  much  in  debt  \ 
Did  you  use  to  trust  your  customers  for  your  meat  \  I  believe 
you  deal  with  them  for  ready  moDey,  did  you  not  ? 

ICtk.  Truely,  sir,  I  was  forced  to  trust  sometimes  when  my 
customers  had  not  money  to  pay  mee.  There  was  one.  Master 
Ruk'rostf  a  Cooke,  that  owed  me  almost  a  hundred  pounds,  who 
no  sooner  heard  of  this  strict  comnumd  agamst  selling  of  meat  on 
SundayeSy  but  he  hanged  a  padlocke  on  the  doore  and  away  went 
Pilgarlicke.  I  cannot  heare  of  my  gentleman  since  his  departure, 
nor  doe  I  ever  looke  to  receive  my  money  now. 

Hop.  NoWy  why  not  now  ? 

KUc.  Because  I  doe  never  looke  to  see  him  againe.  But  put  the 
case  he  should  ever  come  againe,  hee  would  never  bee  able  to  pay 
mee  without  he  were  suftred  to  sell  meate  on  Sundayes  in  service 
time. 

Hop.  Why  ?  Is  it  impossible  for  cookes  to  get  money  on  the 
weeke  daies  ?  I  know  no  reason  but  why  they  may  aa  well  as  on 
the  Sundayes. 

Kik.  Yes,  sir,  'tis  very  possible,  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have ' 
observed  in  some  of  these  Cookes.  You  should  have  a  Cooke  that 
upon  Sundaies  would  dresse  twice  so  much  meat  as  upon  any  other 
day,  and  sell  it  three  times  as  deare ;  for,  sir,  hb  doore  shall  stand 
open  all  the  service  time,  and  anybody  may  be  suftred  to  come  in 
(the  Churchwardens  excepted),  and  he  that  calls  for  any  of  his 
rosted  beefe,  hath  it  weighed  to  him  by  the  ounce,  or  at  least  one 
would  thinke  it  so  by  the  thine  slices,  which  hec  with  much 
pollicy  carveth  from  the  spit ;  and  so  by  his  pollicy  he  will  make 
you  eighteene  pence  of  that  which  (on  any  other  day)  he 
would  take  eightpence  for,  and  greete  you  with  a  welcome  into 
the  bargaine.  But  those  daies  are  now  past,  and  therefore  I 
despaire  of  ever  seeing  my  money. 

Hop.  I  am  just  in  your  case.  Did  you  not  know  Nkk  Froth  the 
Tapster  at  the  Bell  ?  He  was  a  man  that  used  his  customers  as 
your  cook  used  his,  for  in  service  time  on  Sundaies  you  should 
have  him  draw  his  beere  out  at  a  penny  a  demy  can,  or  a  halfe 
pint ;  besides,  the  willy  knave  had  an  excellent  Acuity  in  frothing. 
He  would  get  as  much  in  drawing  half  a  barrell  on  a  Sunday  as 


Political.  159 

he  should  by  a  whole  barrell  on  any  other  day;  and  for  his 
Indian  unoake,  he  sold  that  as  deare  as  apothecaries  doe  their 
arabergreese.  I,  seeing  him  in  this  hopefiile  thriving  way,  trusted 
him  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  barreUs  of  beere,  in  hope  (though) 
that  I  should  have  had  my  money  before  this  time,  but  he  being 
debarred  of  this  privilidge,  I  utterly  despaire  of  pajrment,  and  so 
by  this  and  many  other  such  like  debters^  I  am  like  to  be  undone, 
and  therefore  He  not  stay  in  England. 

Kile,  Then  let  us  both  return  to  London  and  gather  up  as  many 
of  our  debts  as  we  can,  to  beare  our  charges  in  our  journey.  If 
we  can  but  once  get  crosse  the  great  pond,  wee  may  with  con- 
fidence outface  our  creditors.  Our  daies  of  payment  draw  neere, 
therefore  let  us  make  good  use  of  our  time  that  we  have  to  tarry. 

Come  leCs  anoay^  and  if  the  wind  sets  right ^ 
Week  he  ai  Dover  by  to-morrow  night. 

The  reaction  which  set  in  when  Charles  II.  returned,  is  shewn 
by  the  following  song  from  Mr  Chappell's  Collection  : — 

The  Restoration. 

Come,  come  away. 

To  the  Temple  and  pray. 
And  sing  with  a  pleasant  strain ; 

The  schismatick's  dead, 

The  liturgy's  read. 
And  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again. 

The  vicar  is  glad. 

The  clerk  is  not  sad. 
And  the  parish  cannot  refrain 

To  leap  and  rejoice 

And  lift  up  their  voice 
That  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again. 

The  next  merry  medley,  of  which  there  are  two  versions  pub- 
lished in  1 686,  is  in  a  similar  strain  : 


1 60  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

Part  I. 

The  Jew's  Corant. 

Let's  call  and  drink  the  cellar  dry, 
There's  nothing  sober  underneath  |he  sky  ; 
The  greatest  kingdoms  in  confusion  lye ; 
Since  all  the  world  goes  mad,  why  may  not  I  ? 

My  father's  dead  and  I  am  free. 

He  left  no  children  in  the  world  but  me  ; 

The  devil  drink  him  down  with  usury. 

And  I'll  repine  in  liberality. 

When  first  the  English  war  began. 

He  was  precisely  a  politick  man, 

That  gain'd  his  state  by  sequestration, 

Till  Oliver  began 

To  come  with  sword  in  hand  and  put  him  to  the  run. 

Then  jovial  lads  who  are  undone 

So  by  the  father,  come  home  to  the  son, 

Whom  ale  and  musick  wait  upon,  let's  tipple  up  a  tun 

And  drink  your  woes  away ;  jolly  hearts,  come  on/  come  on. 

PartIL 

A  New  Country  Dance. 

From  the  Loyal  Garland,  1686. 

No  drayman  shall  vnxh  his  dull  feet  appear 

Lord  in  the  Common-weal, 
Or  Jesuit  in  the  pulpit  appear 

Under  a  cloak  of  zeal ; 
Musicians  never  be  noted 

For  wandering  men  of  ease. 
But  they  shall  be  finely  coated, 

And  permitted  to  sing  what  they  please  : 
If  all  things  do  but  hit  well, — 

Who  knows  but  so't  may  be  ? 
Though  now  you  be  very  zealous, 

Then  you'll  laugh  and  be  merry  as  wc. 


Political.  i6i 

Tay]or»  the  Water  Poet,  was  one  of  the  most  prolific  writers 
on  beer  and  its  associations,  and  a  staunch  loyalist.  At  one  time 
during  his  varied  career,  he  kept  a  public  house  during  the  Crom- 
wellian  era,  and  put  up  the  sign  of  the  King's  head.  On  being 
advised  that  it  was  unsafe,  though  patriotic,  he  took  down  the 
King's,  and  put  up  his  own  head,  with  the  motto — 

"  There's  many  a  head  stands  for  a  ngn, 
Then,  gentle  reader,  why  not  mine  ? " 

One  of  the  most  exaggerated  forms  of  loyalty  occurs  in  the 
«Vade  Mecum  for  Malt  Worms,"  anent  the  King's  head  in 
Cbiswell  Street,  which  was  a  guide  to  the  principal  "pubs" 
and  their  <*  props,"  or  best  supporters.  I  take  the  date  of  this 
anonymous  work  to  be,  from  internal  evidence,  about  the  time 
of  Queen  Anne. 

**  England's  bless'd  Martyr's  Head  next  claims  our  call, 
A  house  that  rises  by  that  monarch's  fall ; 
Kept  by  a  man,  who,  though  his  name  is  Meade, 
A  name  distinguished  by  a  factious  breed, 
Detests  the  UooJy  crew  that  caused  that  impious  deed. 
Faithful  to  Felt — man's  and  to  Dold — 's  cause, 
He  accounts  as  justly  as  he  justly  draws. 
In  both  capacities  of  clerk  and  host. 
True  to  the  duties  and  his  double  post ; 
Since  none  can  better  keep  his  Martyr's  Book, 
None  better  after  his  own  business  look. 
And  though  a  tap-house,  every  place  is  clean. 
Good  usage  and  good  liquors  flow  within. 
Here  Br — wn,  the  Cooper  to  the  Brewhouse  near. 
By  drinking  shows  this  ken  excels  for  Beer : 
Here  Johnny  Sm— d,  whose  taste  has  oft  been  try'd. 
Quart  after  quart  with  all  the  tribe  beside. 
That  wait  upon  the  boiler  or  the  dray. 
Spend  all  the  vacant  hours  by  night  and  day ; 
So  there's  no  doubt,  but  where  the  Brewers  come, 
Good  drink  must  freight  that  hospitable  Dome, 
For  Grocer  eats  himself  no  rotten  plumb." 

L 


1 6  2  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

At  n  later  date,  ))arty  feeling  ran  high  between  the  Jacobites 
and  Anti-Jacobiteiy  the  forerunners  of  the  Whigs  and  Tories. 
I  take  it  that  the  following  extract  from  a  Mughouse  song  refers 
to  the  Young  Pretender.  The  song  itself  appeared  in  "  Killy 
Crankey's  Garland."  The  Mughouse  clubs  became  each  one 
a  political  centre,  with  this  great  difierence,  that  in  the  loyal 
set  the  King's  health  was  drunk  openly ;  in  the  other,  the  King 
was  toasted  surreptitiously  ^  over  the  water.'' 

"  We  friends  of  the  Mug  are  met  here  to  discover 
Our  zeal  to  the  Protestant  House  of  Hanover, 
Against  the  attempts  of  a  bigotted  Rover; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

*'  Prepare  then  in  bumpers  confusion  to  drink 
To  their  cursed  devices  who  otherwise  think, 
For  now  that  vile  interest  must  certainly  sink ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

**  The  Tories,  'tis  true,  are  yet  skulking  in  shoals, 
To  show  their  affection  to  Perkih  in  Bowls; 
But  in  time  we  will  ferret  them  out  of  their  holes; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

**  So  their  Hero  himself  in  Camp  once  appears. 
Created  sham  Bishops,  sham  Knights,  and  sham  Peers, 
Then  scampers  away  like  a  child  all  m  tears; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

**  If  such  was  his  conduct  before  any  battle, 
Such  had  be  in  Council  but  heard  our  Mugs  rattle, 
'Twould  have  spoil'd  his  long  speeches,  and  ended  his  prattle ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

*'  Now  we'll  laugh  at  the  Brat  and  all  his  dull  tools. 
Who  thought  us  such  sinners  as  well  as  such  fools. 
As  to  part  with  a  King  who  so  gloriously  rules ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 


Political,  163 

"  He's  a  true  faith's  defender  we  have  on  the  throne. 
And  so  well  his  valour  thro'  Europe  is  known, 
Not  a  potenute  dares  his  base  enemy  own ; 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

M  Let's  still  then  stand  fast  by  Religion  and  Laws, 
In  spight  of  High  Church  and  Popish  Jackdaws, 
Nor  fear  of  success,  'tis  George  and  his  Cause; 
Which  nobody  can  deny.*' 

Here  b  another  extract  in  the  same  bitter  strain  : — 

**  When  Englbh  fashions  did  prevail. 
We  all  agreed  on  drinking  ale. 
Such  strength  we  were  unto  this  land 
That  hosts  of  foes  could  not  withstand; 
Vain  fashion'd  folks  reverse  inclin'd, 
Who  Popish  liquors  seem'd  to  find, 
Such  traitorous  knaves  are  Britain's  foes, 
Ere  long  you  see  them  near  great  toes. 
Nay,  sooner  than  forsake  that  liquor. 
You'll  see  them  bend  to  kiss  the  slipper." 

Beer,  politics,  and  loyalty  have,  however,  always  been  closely 
allied.  The  Rev.  Mr  Bromston's  lines  on  the  art  of  politics, 
written  in  1751,  are  still  applicable. 

**  Not  long  since  parish  clerks  with  saucy  airs 
Apply'd  King  David's  psalms  to  State  affairs; 
Some  certain  tunes  to  politics  belong — 
On  both  sides  drunkards  love  a  party  song. 

"  To  speak  is  free,  no  member  is  debarr*d, 
But  funds  and  national  accounts  are  hard ; 
Safer  on  common  topics  to  discourse — 
The  malt  tax  and  a  military  force — 
On  these  each  coflfee-house  will  lend  a  hint. 
Besides  a  thousand  things  that  arc  in  print* 

"  When  the  duke's  grandson  for  the  county  stood. 
His  beef  was  fa  and  his  October  good, 

L  a 


164  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

His  lordship  took  each  ploughman  by  the  fist. 
Drunk  to  their  sons — their  wiTes  and  daughters  kiss'd ; 
But  when  strong  beer  their  frce-bom  hearts  inflames, 
They  sell  him  bargains  and  they  call  him  names ; 
Thus  is  it  deemed  in  English  nobles  wise 
To  stoop  for  no  one  reason  but  to  rise." 

PepySy  in  his  diary,  gives  a  second-hand  account  of  some 
election  drinks : — 

"Sept,  28th,  1667. — After  dinner  comes  Sir  F to  me 

about  business,  he  telling  me  romantic  lies  of  himself  and  family, 
how  they  have  been  parliament  men  for  Grimsby,  he  and  his  fore- 
fathers, this  1 40  years,  and  his  father  is  now ;  and  himself  at  this 
day  stands  for  the  borough  with  his  father  by  the  death  of  his 
fellow-burgess,  and  that  he  believes  it  will  cost  him  as  much  as  it 
did  his  predecessor,  which  was  ;^ 300  in  ale  and  jQ^2  in  buttered 
ale,  which  I  believe  is  one  of  his  devilish  lies." 

The  old  gossip  did  not  drop  a  tear  as  he  wrote  the  above,  in 
order  to  blot  it  out  for  ever. 

One  incident  that  gave  rise  to  an  immense  deal  of  feeling 
throughout  the  country  occurred  in  1850,  on  the  occasion  of 
General  Haynau's  visit  to  Messrs  Barclay  5c  Perkin's  brewery, 
when  the  General  got  well  trounced  by  the  sturdy  draymen  and 
had  to  cut  and  run.  The  incident  almost  caused  an  open  rupture 
between  the  Cabinets  of  Vienna  and  Downing  Street,  but  Lord 
Palmerston  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  When  the  Austrian 
Government  demanded  the  surrender  and  delivery  of  all  the  men 
who  were  concerned  in  the  assault,  Lord  Palmerston  replied  that 
the  English  law  courts  were  open  to  the  Austrian  general,  but  he 
would  have  to  come  over  here  to  identify  his  assailants.  The 
General  declined  the  invitation.  The  episode  was  celebrated  in 
a  Catnach  ballad,  which  was  very  popular  at  the  time. 

General  Haynau  and  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen.'*^ 

Good  people,  pay  attention,  pray, 
Just  now  to  what  I  have  to  say, 

*  Birt,  Printer,  39  Gt.  St  Andrew's  Street,  7  DUU,  London. 


Political.  i6s 

Of  what  was  done  the  other  day, 

By  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 
There  was  a  chief  well-known  to  fame, 
General  Haynau  was  his  name, 
Who  a  tyrant's  favour  sought  to  gain 
By  causing  grievous  sorrow  and  pain. 
By  blood  and  slaughter,  fire  and  sword. 
He  did  commend  his  Cossack  horde. 
Till  Freedom's  blood  like  water  pour'd ; 

Sing  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 

Hit  him,  kick  him  up  and  down, 

Box  him,  knock  him  round  and  round. 

Out  of  his  hat  break  the  crown. 

Cried  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 

When  fair  Hungary  prostrate  lay 
Beneath  a  tyrant's  despot  sway. 
And  many  moum'd  the  fatal  day; 

Oh !  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 
Her  bravest  sons  he  put  to  death. 
Her  fairest  women  by  the  lash 
Had  their  flesh  cut  from  living  flesh  ! 
While  freedom  to  the  earth  was  dash'd, 
By  this  monster  man  in  human  shape. 
But  you  shall  quickly  know  his  fate, 
He  got  his  desert  at  any  rate. 

From  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 
Hit  him,  etc. 

One  day  he  went  to  have  a  stare. 
At  where  we  English  brew  our  beer, 
And  met  a  warm  reception  there. 

From  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 
Out  on  the  tyrant  all  did  cry ; 
How  you  would  laugh  to  see  htm  fly. 
To  cut  his  lucky  he  did  try, 


1 66  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

But  80O0  found  out  'twas  all  my  eye. 
One  collared  him  by  his  moustache. 
And  one  with  mud  his  hct  did  wash, 
Another  roil'd  him  in  the  slush, 
Did  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 
Hit  him,  etc. 

One  let  down  upon  his  head 
Straw  enough  to  make  his  bed, 
One  pulled  his  nose  till  it  was  red. 

Did  Barclay  5c  Perkins'  Draymen. 
Then  out  of  the  gate  he  did  run. 
And  now  there  was  some  precious  fun, 
A  rotten  egg  he  got  from  one, 
For  all  did  cry — ^yes,  every  one, 
To  show  how  we  loved  such  a  brute. 
Who  women  flogged,  and  men  did  shoot. 
For  trying  tyranny  to  uproot. 

Oh  !  Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 
Hit  him,  etc. 

• 

At  length  he  found  a  place  to  hide. 

All  at  the  George  by  Banksidc, 

But  not  till  they'd  well-tann'd  his  hide, 

Barclay  6c  Perkins'  Draymen. 
Let  this  to  tyrants  a  lesson  be, 
Not  to  crush  fair  liberty. 
Or  like  Hajrnau  they'll  have  to  flee 
And  not  get  off  so  well  as  he  1 
Then  for  Barclay's  men  we'll  give  a  cheer, 
May  they  h*ve  long  to  brew  our  beer. 
And  from  their  masters  nothing  fear, 

Barclay  &  Perkins'  Draymen. 
Hit  him,  etc. 

W.   EVERSOM. 

The  incidents  of  taxation  on  malt,  hops,  and  beer  have  always 
been  a  sore  point  to  the  brewers,  and  indirectly  the  public,  of 


PoliticaL  167 

course,  who  ane  afiected  thereby.  In  1791 9  an  impoiit  of  two 
shillings  per  quarter  was  put  on  mult,  and  this  Act  led  to  a  great 
anomaly  in  the  taxation  of  beer.  Mr  Flower,  a  brewer  of  Hert- 
ford, came  forward  as  the  champion  of  the  trade  at  this  time, 
and  enlisted  Lord  Loughborough  in  the  cause.  His  Lordship 
denounced  the  Bill  in  good  set  terms  from  his  seat  in  the  House. 
**  Let  their  lordships  look  back  to  the  low  eleemosynary,  and 
yet  most  oppressive  measure  of  finance,  to  which,  for  his  last 
project  of  ambition,  the  minister  had  recourse — an  attack  on  the 
wholesome  beverage  of  the  yeomanry,  of  that  large  and  valuable 
description  of  persons  who,  without  disparagement  to  the  manu- 
facturers, were  of  more  consequence  to  the  country  than  any 
other  part.  Thus  their  vigour  was  to  be  destroyed,  their  com- 
forts withdrawn.'' 

Mr  Flower  in  another  place  followed  suit,  and  incidentally 
gave  high  medical  testimony  on  behalf  of  Beer : — 

"  Could  I  have  obliged  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  with 
his  Budget  Committee,  to  have  visited  the  cotuge  of  the  labourer, 
who  had  but  just  survived  the  dangers  of  those  dreadful  epidemic 
disorders  which  have  been  so  fatally  prevalent  during  the  last 
year,  which  have  threatened  to  bury  us  in  one  grave,  and  which 
the  faculty  have  declared  were  occasioned  by  low  living,  pre- 
scribing for  such  patients  the  strongest  ale  that  could  be  procured. ** 

Certainly  we  are  not  worried  so  much  in  detail  as  our  grand- 
fathers were,  as  the  following  verses  show ;  but  still  taxation  is 
vexation,  nevertheless,  and  I  trust  that  no  fresh  inquisitorial 
imposition  on  beer  will  be  made : — 

*'  We  pay  for  our  soap  and  our  salt. 

For  cyder,  for  brandy,  for  beer ; 
We  pay  for  our  mum  and  our  malt, 

And  excise  makes  our  leather  so  dear ; 
We  are  forced  to  jiay  for  light. 

Which  our  windows  afford  by  day ; 
And  we  pay  for  our  candles  by  night — 

All  which  we  most  willing  obey. 


i68  In  Praise  of  Ak. 

**  But  may  that  devil  Exciae 

For  the  future  never  enter  our  doors, 
Nor  with  his  mischievout  eyes 

Pry  into  our  Christmas  stores. 
Send  him  home  to  hell,  whence  he  came. 

And  there  Jet  him  howl  till  doomsday; 
Oh,  never  hereafter  him  name, 

For  the  honour  of  Sir  John  Kaye/' 

William  IV.,  c.  51  (July  16,  1850),  repealed  some  of  the 
vexatious  restrictions  on  ale  and  malt,  and  reduced  the  dudes. 
This  act  on  his  part  gave  rise  to  the  following  burst  of  loyalty, 
in  the  form  of  a  very  fiivourite  song,  written  by  a  gentleman 
who  rejoiced  in  the  appropriate  name  of  Barclay  Perkins,  and 
published  by  Messrs  Brewer  &  Co.,  of  Bishopsgate  Street. 


I  Likes  a  Drop  of  Good  Bber,  I  Does. 

Come,  neighbours  all,  both  great  and  small. 
Let's  perform  our  duties  here, 

And  loudly  sing,  Long  live  the  king, 
For  bating  the  tax  on  beer: 
For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer; 

And  loudly  sing.  Long  live  the  king. 
For  bating  the  tax  on  beer. 

Some  people  think  distill-e-ry  drink 

Is  wholesome,  neat,  and  sheer ; 
But  I  will  contend  to  my  life's  end. 

There's  nothing  to  tipple  like  beer: 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer ; 
And  I  will  contend,  to  my  life's  end. 

There's  nothing  to  tipple  like  beer. 

Brandy  and  gin  blows  out  the  skin. 
And  makes  one  feel  very  queer ; 


Political.  169 

But  whenever  I  puts  them  into  my  stomach 

I  always  wishes  'twas  beer : 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer; 
But  whenever  I  puts  them  into  my  stomach 

I  always  wishes  'twas  beer. 

From  drinking  rum  the  maggots  come, 

And  bowel  pains  appear; 
But  I  alwajTS  find  both  cholic  and  wind 

Are  driven  away  by  beer: 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer ; 
But  I  always  find  that  cholic  and  wind 

Arc  driven  away  by  beer. 

Moll,  if  I  choose,  reads  out  the  news 

With  voice  both  firm  and  clear, 
While  I  eats  my  tripe,  and  smokes  my  pipe. 

And  drinks  my  gallon  of  beer: 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer ; 
While  I  eats  my  tripe,  and  smokes  my  pipe, 

And  drinks  my  gallon  of  beer. 

At  the  public-house  they  used  to  chouse. 

Which  qiused  me  many  a  tear ; 
But  the  new  beer  shops  seU  malt  and  hops. 

And  that's  the  right  stuff  to  make  beer: 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer; 
But  the  new  beer  shops  sell  malt  and  hops. 

And  that's  the  right  stuff  to  make  beer; 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer. 

Of  all  things  thirst  I  counts  the  worst, 

And  always  stands  in  fear; 
So  when  I  goes  out  I  carries  about 

A  little  pint  bottle  of  beer: 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer; 
So  when  I  goes  out  I  carries  about 

A  little  pint  bottle  of  beer; 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer. 


r  70  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

'Twixt  wet  and  dry  I  always  try 

From  the  extremes  to  steer; 
And  tho'  I've  shrunk  from  getting  dead  drunk, 

I've  always  been  fond  of  my  beer: 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer; 
And  tho'  Tve  shrunk  from  getting  dead  drunk, 

I've  always  been  fond  of  my  beer; 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer. 

Let  ministers  shape  the  duty  on  Cape, 

And  ordain  that  port  shall  be  dear; 
But  dam  their  eyes  if  ever  they  tries 

To  rob  a  poor  man  of  his  beer; 

For  I  likes  a  little  good  beer; 
But  darn  their  eyes  if  ever  they  tries 

To  rob  a  poor  man  of  his  beer; 

For  I  likes  a  drop  of  good  beer. 

In  **  Tom  Brown's  Schooldays,"  Mr  Tom  Hughes  describes 
this  song  as  having  been  a  great  favourite  with  the  Rugby  boys, 
by  whom  it  was  duly  honoured  on  Saturday  nights,  when  a  double 
allowance  of  ale  was  dealt  out  to  them. 

During  the  Russian  troubles,  a  war-tax  of  i|d.  per  bushel, 
and  5  per  cent.,  was  imposed  in  1854-5,  and  the  brewers  had  in 
consequence  to  charge  an  additional  six  shillings  per  barrel,  in 
order  to  recoup  themselves.  This  step  gave  rise  to  a  burst  of 
indignation,  and  Punch  and  other  journals  took  up  their  parable 
on  the  occasion.  The  following  specimens  show  the  state  of 
public  feeling  thirty  years  ago.     Punch  led  off  with 

Music,  Malt,  and  Hops. 

Messrs  Bass  &  Co.,  the  teetotallers  will  be  glad  to  hear,  have 
published  a  circular  in  the  name  of  the  Burton  pale  ale  brewers, 
announcing  the  intention  of  raising  the  price  of  their  beer  by  6s. 
per  cask.  This  concert  among  the  brewers,  with  a  Bass  for  a 
leader,  exhibits  some  novelties  in  harmony.  The  Bass  rises 
instead  of  descending  in  the  scale  of  price,  and  by  thus  increasing 


Political.  1 7 1 

in  height  will,  strange  to  say,  reach  up  to  double  Bass.  One 
more  step  will  raise  it  to  treble  Bass  ;  but  that  will  be  a  contra- 
diction in  terms,  and  absolutely  ridiculous. 

This  was   followed   by  the  following  effusion  in  the  same 
issue: — 

The  Lover's  Farewell  to  Pale  A.le. 

Farewell,  my  bright,  my  brisk,  my  pale, 

I  cannot  say  my  sweet, 
For  thou  art  bitter,  oh,  my  ale ! 

With  hops,  I  trust,  replete. 

Henceforth  thou  art  estranged  from  me ; 

And  dost  thou  ask  me  why  ? 
Thou  wilt  not  suit  my  low  degree, 

Since  thou  hast  got  so  high. 

It  was  not  wise  to  raise  thee  so, 

'Tis  what  thou  wilt  not  bear; 
Better  had  thou  been  brought  more  low. 

And  made  "  not  jiale  but  fair." 

Go  travel  o'er  the  ocean  brine, 

To  grace  some  Nabob's  cup  5 
Thy  figure  will  not  do  for  mine, 

So  I  must  give  thee  up. 

With  chamomile  the  goblet  fill, 

The  cold  infusion  pour; 
ril  quafTthe  dose,  the  draught  I'll  swill, 

And  sigh  for  thee  no  more ! 

The    attack   commenced    by    Punch  was    followed    up    by 
Diogenes  : — 

The  Rise  in  Ale  :  A  Bitter  Wail. 

By  our  Bottle^Nosed  Contributor. 

Ye  brewers  hale,  of  bitter  ale,  who  live  at  home  in  clover. 

On  whose  mild  trash  no  tippler  rash  could  e'er  get  half  seas  over ; 


1 72  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

How  dare  ye  overshoot  the  mark,  by  trying  (venturous  task  ! ) 
To  make  a  double-barrellM  charge  for  every  single  cask  ? 

'Tis  surely  hard  enough  that  some,  to  mitigate  their  drought, 
Must  dose  themselves  with  bitter  ale,  though  they  are  sweet  on 

stout; 
Then,  why  up  starts — to  sour  them  and  aggravate  their  blues — 
From  "  Burton,"  this  "  anatomy  of  melancholy  "  news  ? 

Imprudent  Bass!  why  thus  forsake  the  tenor  of  thy  way  ? 
Or  why  should  die  a  tonic  scale  of  charges  we  can  pay  \ 
Who  now,  in  prospect  of  long  bills,  a  beaker  full  would  drink  ? 
Thy  "  Dr.  and  per  contra,"  Bass— oh,  dear,  how  they  will  shrink. 


And  ye,  too,  AUsopps — sloppy  firm  1  whose  beer  some  folks  define 
To  he  a  tasteless  compound,  until  flavoured  with  strychnine  ; 
You  soon  may  find  it  will  not  pay — the  advertising  rig : 
Your  statements  may  be  deem'd  big  lies,  though  backed  by  a 
Lie-big. 

Ye  lovers  of  the  hop,  a  pretty  dance  ye  will  be  led, 

Should  ye  resign  your  **  bitter,"  to  find  some  new  drink  instead. 

Whate'er  ye  choose  can  scarce  be  worse,  e'en  though  'twere 

ginger-pop; 
For  sure  the  very  name  of  **  pale  "  suggests  the  thought  of  slop. 

Ye  brewers  hale,  of  bitter  ale,  who  live  at  home  in  clover. 
Quick  knuckle  under,  or  with  ye  it  soon  will  be  all-over ; 
Your  Allsopp's  days  of  glory  like  a  fabrication  seem, 
And  Bass's  golden  visions  ^  baseless  fabrics  of  a  dream." 

Beer!  Boys,  Beer! 
-^ir—"  Cheer,  boys !  cheer!" 

Beer !  boys,  beer  I  no  more  absurd  restriction. 
Courage,  Bass,  Meux,  and  Barclay  must  give  way ; 

Half-pints  and  quarts  have  vanish'd  like  a  fiction, 
Why,  then,  submit  to  the  brewers'  despot  sway  ? 


Political.  1 73 

Brown  stout  of  England !  much  as  wc  niay  love  thee, 

(Which,  by  the  way,  I  rather  think  we  do,) 
Pale  draught  of  India  !  shall  they  charge  us  for  thee 
Twice  what  you're  worth,  for  the  profit  of  a  few  ? 
Beer !  boys,  beer !  abundant,  deep,  and  vasty ! 

Beer !  boys,  beer !  the  stunning,  strong,  and  grand ! 
Beer  I  boys,  beer !  the  cheap,  and  not  the  nasty ! 
Beer !  boys,  beer !  at  a  price  a  man  can  stand ! 

Beer !  boys,  beer !  the  present  scale  of  prices 

Leads  to  a  style  of  tipple  not  the  best ; 
Vile  Spanish  root,  and  quassia,  which  not  nice  is. 

Bad  for  the  bile,  and  oppressive  for  the  chest. 
But,  let's  unite  with  hearty  agitation, 

Push  for  our  rights,  and  battle  might  and  main  ; 
And  ours  shall  be  a  large  and  brimming  tankard 

Of  real  wholesome  stuff,  brew'd  out  of  roasted  grain. 
Beer  !  boys,  beer !  no  more  of  gentian's  nausea ; 

Beer !  boys,  beer  !   with  liquorice  away  ; 
Beer !  boys,  beer !   no  logwood  chips  or  quassia  ; 
Beer !  boys,  beer ! — which  is  all  I  have  to  say  ! 

A  "  Bitter  "   Remonstrance. 

Oh  !  Mr  Bass !  a  pretty  pass 

Of  things  we've  come  to  here, 
When  shillings  six  you  further  fix 

Upon  the  cask  of  beer. 
We  thought  that  you  and  Allsopp  too 

Sufficient  gains  did  clear. 
When  pennies  four  we  paid  you  for 

A  pint  of  bitter  beer. 

When'foreign  tongues  suspicions  flung 

Upon  your  malt  and  hops, 
And  dark  hints  brought  of  strychnine  bought 

In  murderous  chemists'  shops, 


1 74  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

We  by  you  stood,  and  swore  that  good 
And  wholesome  was  youi*  cheer.; 

To  help  your  trade^  a  quart  we  made 
Our  pint  of  bitter  beer. 

That  storm  pass'd  by,  we  heard  a  cry, 

Through  England  growing  loud, 
Of  strikes  for  pay  (which  leads  away 

Too  oft  the  labouring  crowd). 
We  smiled  on  those  whose  prices  rose, 

And  thought  we  had  no  fear 
Augmented  we  in  price  should  see 

Our  pint  of  bitter  beer. 

But,  Mr  Bass !  if  thus  your  class 

Our  olden  love  repay. 
Well  show  you  how  at  *'  striking  "  now 

The  public,  now*  can  play. 
Until  the  rate  you  shall  abate 

Well  throw  you  in  the  rear. 
And  half-in-half  in  place  we'll  quaff 

Of  pints  of  bitter  beer. 

A  "Stave"  for  Bass  &  Co. 

Bass  !  whose  &me  is  based  on  beer  ; 
Bass  1  whose  name  is  known  where'er 
Britons  hold  your  nectar  dear — 

Thirst  assuaging  pleasantly. 
Now  you  make  our  cheeks  grow  pale  1 
Now  we  read  you've  "  raised  "  your  ale ! 
Brew'd  at  Burton,  where  the  sale 

PPaps  will  lessen  presently. 

What  though  malt  and  hops  are  high  ! 
What  though  staves  are  dear  to  buy ! 
Once,  when  cheapness  was  the  cry. 
Did  you  lower  speedily  ? 


Political.  175 

In  your  vau  there's  mischief  brewing  ! 
In  your  casks  there  may  be  ruin  ! 
If  you're  bent  on  still  pursuing 
Shillings  six  so  greedily. 

By  the  Thames'  discolour'd  tide. 
By  the  Ganges  rolling  wide, 
By  the  rocky  gully's  side. 

Shout,  ye  Saxons,  thrillingly ! 
**  No  advance  on  pennies  four  ! 
Quite  enough  we  gave  before  ! 
Bitter  beer  we'll  drink  no  more, 

Bass  and  Allsopp,  willingly." 

Here  is  another  comparative  song  from  the  same  source,  but 
not  so  laudatory,  though  it  conve]^  a  moral : — 

Beer:  A  Voice  from  the  Crowds 

The  minister's  tax 

On  the  housekeepers'  backs 
Was  a  sell  and  a  sham  severe ; 

And  "  their  tea  be  blowed ! " 

But  they  certainly  showed 
Some  very  good  notions  on  beer. 
For  we  likes  a  drop  of  good  beer, 
And  it's  hard  to  get  at — that's  clear; 

So  many  combines, 

In  their  various  lines. 
To  rob  a  poor  man  of  his  beer. 

Says  Jerry  to  me, 

T'other  day,  says  he, 
"  There's  a  very  good  shop  round  here." 

**  Jerry,'  says  I, 

'*  My  whistle  is  dry, 
I  wote  as  we  has  some  beer." 


1 76  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

So  says  we — •*  A  pot  of  good  beer;** 
But  they  dniw'd  us  summut  so  queer. 
That  a  cove  no  more 
Could  ha'  bolted  a  door 
Than  swallowed  such  stuff  for  beer. 

**  Landlord,''  says  I, 
With  a  face  all  wry, 

"  What  do  you  call  this  here?" 
"Gents,"  says  he, 
''  It's  a  pot  of  what  we 

Serve  out  as  the  werry  best  beer ; 

But  it's  hard  to  get  at  good  beer, 

For  the  brewer  sells  it  so  dear, 
And  the  rents  is  so  high, 
That "— <«  In  feet,"  says  I, 

"  You  rob  a  poor  man  of  his  beer." 

Says  Jerry  to  me, 

"  We  must  live,"  say  he, 
^  To  make  the  expenses  clear ! 

They  doctor  it  up, 

So  I  vote  for  a  cup 
Of  summut  instead  of  beer, 
For  anything's  better  than  beer." 
*<  Jerry,"  say  I,  "hear,  hear!" 

So  a  quartern  we  had. 

And  it  wasn't  so  bad, 
As  it  took  off  the  taste  of  the  beer. 

Jerry  and  me 

Got  making  free. 
Both  on  us  got  very  queer, 

Which  neither  a  one 

Would  ever  ha'  done 
If  they'd  given  us  wholesome  beer. 
For  the  want  of  a  drop  of  good  beer 


Political.  177 

Drives  lou  to  tipples  more  dear ; 

And  they  licks  their  wives. 

And  destrojTS  their  Jives, 
Which  they  would  not  ha'  done  upon  beer. 

This  war-tax  was  repealed  in  1856,  when  the  public  again 
rejoiced  in  cheap  beer. 

History  repeats  itself,  and  the  attempt  in  1885  to  raise  the 
Exchequer  by  a  tax  of  two  shillings  per  barrel  was  disastrous 
to  the  Government  The  announcement  of  the  intentioos  of  the 
Chancellor  gave  rise  to  a  popular  burst  of  indignation.  One  of 
the  cleverest  is  the  following  parody  on  Lord  Tennyson's  rhapsody, 
written  by  the  versatile  writer  who  assumes  the  name  of 
«  Dagonet  ^  xnThe  Rrferee.  I  am  indebted  to  the  courtesy  of 
Mr  Henry  Sampson  for  permission  to  reprint  the  lines,  which 
were  prophetic. 

Thi  Bieiu 

Not  from  Tra^igar's  Bay,  where  Nelson  fought. 
But  where  round  Nelson's  base,  in  iron  wrought. 
The  lions  lie'  and  watch  and  guard  and  wait — 
There  was  the  Lion's  roar  upraised  of  late. 

Proud  sutesmen,  ye  who  hear  the  thunderous  burst, 
Know  ye  with  what  the  Lion  slakes  his  thirst. 
Far  to  your  halls  is  borne  the  mighty  cheer; 
The  Lion  thirsts — you've  robbed  him  of  his  beer ! 

O,  you — if  you've  fiuled  to  understand 
That  beer  is  dear  throughout  our  sea-girt  land. 
You — you  shall  be  that  roaring  Lion's  prey — 
Be  wise  in  time  and  take  the  tax  away. 

History  has  a  knack  of  repeating  itself  in  many  ways.  In 
1854  or  1855,  the  then  Lord  Robert  Grosvenor  passed  an  Act 
for  closing  public-houses  all  the  day  on  Sundays.  Public  feeling 
rose  high  on  the  occasion,  as  Lord  Grosvenor's  windows  bore 
witness  to,  and  after  a  time  the  Act  was  repealed  and  the  present 


1 78  In  Praise  tf  Ale, 

tomewhat  reaaooable  hoars  for  opening  and  clotiog  were  imposed. 
A  similar  moyement  b  now  set  on  foot  by  a  certain  section  who 
decline  to  be  taught  by  experience,  or  to  learn  the  future  from 
the  past  of  man. 

The  wording  of  one  portion  of  the  licensing  Act  gave  rise  to 
a  number  of  jokes  at  the  time.  Here  is  one,  the  best  of  its 
class: — 

Allowed  to  be  Drunk  on  the  Premises. 

By  John  Labern. 

Of  all  the  strange  bills  that  they've  pass'd 

To  make  people  act  with  propriety, 
They've  manag'd  to  make  one  at  last, 

That  is  causing  some  fiin  in  society. 
For  in  every  street  you  go  through. 

Lane,  alley,  or  any  such  crevices. 
Each  beer-shop  writes  up  full  in  view, 

^  Allowed  to  be  drunk  on  the  premises." 

The  people  they  all  must  agree, 

Tho'  so  much  has  been  talk'd  of  concerning  it, 
A  better  law  never  could  be. 

For  in  fiict  they're  now  daily  confirming  it. 
What  uuU  can  that  man  have,  oh  deur ! 

Who  this  Act  say  a  wish  to  condemn  is  his, 
He  can't  know  what  wirtue's  in  beer; 

Tf  he  did  not  get  drunk  on  the  premises. 

What  a  good  set  of  trumps  they  must  be. 

In  the  house  all  the  slim  and  the  crummy  ones. 
At  the  same  time  I'll  own  and  agree. 

That  there's  some  of  them  reg'lar  rummy  ones, 
But  I  means  all  those  radical  chaps. 

Wot  gloriously  made  it  their  businesses. 
To  wote  for  them  beer-drinking  acts, 

Allowed  to  get  drunk  on  the  premises. 


Political.  1 79 

Talk  about  legislation  and  tliat. 

Why,  I'm  almost  asham'd  to  be  naming  it. 
They  really  can't  know  what  they're  at 

So  I'll  in  a  few  words  be  explaining  it. 
Five  shillings  if  groggy  you're  found 

To  fine  you  they  say  it  their  business  is, 
Altho'  by  the  Act  you're  bound 

To  stay  and  get  drunk  on  the  premises. 


Some  M.P.'s  I  daresay  tried  hard. 

Against  others  such  a  bill  carrying, 
From  us  they've  all  comfort  debarred 

But  one,  that's  the  pleasure  of  marrying. 
But  I'm  sure  they've  no  cause  to  talk. 

For  they  all  on  the  sly  keep  their  mistresses. 
They  sits  with  'em  drawing  their  cork. 

And  I  warrants  gets  drunk  on  the  premises. 


For  landlords  it's  all  werry  well, 

We  needn't  do  as  they  tell  us  now ; 
That  gemman  wot  keeps  the  Blue  Bell 

Not  half  enough  drink  will  he  sell  us  now. 
I  told  him,  say  I,  we're  well  back'd 

And  your  conduct,  sir,  very  remiss  is. 
For  we're  by  this  Parliament  Act, 

Allowed  to  get  drunk  on  the  premises. 


A  word  or  two  more  I  must  say. 

Before  I  my  song  can  be  finishing. 
To  all  those  who  woted  that  day, 

Our  cares  and  sorrows  diminishing. 
Towards  something  round  Til  be  proud. 

To  be  part  for  I  think  it  my  business  is, 
To  drink  all  their  healths  wot  allowed 

Us  all  to  be  drunk  on  the  premises. 

M  2 


t8o  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

After  90  much  controyersial  matter,  a  loyal  and  peaceable  song 
will  restore  harmony. 


«« 


Let  Whig  and  Tory  all  agree 

To  spend  the  nicht  wi'  mirth  and  glee." 


He&b's  a  Health  to  all  Honest  Men. 

Ev'ry  man  take  his  glass  in  his  hand. 

And  drink  a  good  health  to  our  Queen ; 
Many  years  may  she  rule  o'er  this  land, 

May  her  laurels  for  ever  be  green. 
Let  wrangling  and  jangling  straitway  cease, 
Let  every  roan  strive  for  his  country's  peace. 

Neither  Tory  nor  Whig, 

With  their  parties  look  big, 
Here's  a  health  to  all  honest  men. 

'Tis  not  owning  a  whimsical  name. 

That  proves  a  man  loyal  and  just. 
Let  him  fight  for  his  country's  fame, 

Be  impartial  at  home,  if  in  trust. 
'Tis  this  that  proves  him  an  honest  soul. 
His  health  we'll  drink  in  a  brimful  bowl, 

Then  let's  leave  off  debate. 

No  confusion  create, 
Here's  a  health  to  all  honest  men. 

When  a  company's  honestly  met. 

With  intent  to  be  merry  and  gay; 
Their  drooping  spirits  to  whet. 

And  drown  the  fatigues  of  the  day, 
What  madness  it  is  thus  to  dispute. 
When  neither  side  can  this  man  confute. 

When  you've  said  what  you  dare, 

You're  but  just  where  you  are. 
Here's  a  health  to  all  honest  men. 


Political.  1 8  i 

Then,  agree,  ye  true  Britons  agree, 

And  ne'er  quarrel,  'bout  '*  what's  in  a  name," 
Let  your  enemies  tremblingly  see. 

That  an  Englishman's  always  the  same. 
For  our  Queen,  Laws,  our  Church,  and  our  right. 
Let  heart  and  hand  in  the  good  cause  unite, 

Then  who  need  care  a  fig, 

Who's  a  Tory  or  Whig, 
Here's  a  health  to  all  honest  men. 

Though  a  little  out  of  place,  we  may  as  well  fill  this  chapter 
with  an  account  of  the  manner  in  which  Sir  Roger  De  Coverley 
kept  up  the  Christmas,  and,  doubtless,  other  seasonable  rejoicings, 
in  Queen  Anne's  time. 

Sir  Roger,  after  the  laudable  custom  of  his  ancestors,  always 
keeps  open  house  on  Christmas.  I  learned  from  him,  says  a 
writer  in  the  Spectator  of  17 1 2,  that  he  had  killed  eight  fat  hogs 
for  this  season  ;  that  he  had  dealt  about  his  chines  very  liberally 
among  his  neighbours,  and  that  in  particular  he  had  sent  a  string 
of  hogs'  puddings  with  a  pack  of  cards  to  every  poor  family  in 
the  parish. 

**I  have  often  thought,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "it  happens  very 
well  that  Christmas  should  fall  out  in  the  middle  of  winter.  It 
is  the  most  dead,  uncomfortable  time  of  the  year,  when  the  poor 
people  would  suffer  very  much  from  their  poverty  and  cold  if 
they  had  not  good  cheer,  warm  fires,  and  Christmas  gambols  to 
support  them.  I  love  to  rejoice  their  poor  hearts  at  this  season 
and  to  see  the  whole  village  merry  in  my  great  hall. 

**  I  allow  a  double  quantity  of  malt  to  my  small  beer,  and  set 
it  a  running  for  twelve  days  for  every  one  that  calls  for  it  I 
have  always  a  piece  of  cold  beef  and  a  mince  pie  upon  the  table, 
and  am  wonderfully  pleased  to  see  my  tenants  pass  away  a  whole 
evening  in  playing  their  innocent  tricks  and  smutting  one 
another." 


I  82 


CHAPTER   Vil. 

HARVEST  SONGS. 

"  In  harvest  time,  harvest  folke^  servants  and  off. 
Should  mahe  aitt^ether  good  cheer  in  the  haff, 
And  Jill  out  the  black  bowl,  so  bBthe  be  their  song. 
And  let  them  be  merry  all  harvest  time  long  J* 

— TussER. 

Hat  Harvest,  Sheep-shearing,  and  the  grand  climacteric  of  the 
year,  Harvest  Home,  were  always  occasions  of  rejoicing,  when 
master  and  men  jobdy  celebrated  their  victory  over  the  stubborn 
forces  of  nature,  when  the  fruits  of  their  painful  labours  in 
ploughing,  sowing,  reaping,  and  mowing,  were  safely  garnered. 
These  songs  are  all  intensely  characterisdc  of  the  rural  life  of 
our  ancestors,  and  the  manners  and  customs  which  then  prevailed. 
Of  this  class  of  songs  there  is  a  good  variety.  The  labour 
which  was  lightened  by  song  always  culminated  in  a  feast. 
*'A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day,  the  sad  one  tires  in  a 
mile  'a." 

The  harvest  labourers  and  ploughmen  lightened  the  monotony 
of  their  labours  with  singing,  ''The  curly-headed  ploughboy, 
he  whistled  o'er  the  lea."  Those  with  a  light  heart  made 
their  plough  go  lighter,  and  whilst  they  used  the  solace  of  their 
natural  instruments,  both  quickened  themselves  and  encouraged 
their  labouring  team.  Harvest  labourers  are  invariably  associated 
with  merriment  and  rejoicing,  both  in  real  life  and  the  drama. 
In  Peele's  *«01d  Wife's  Tale,"  1571,  the  following  speech  is 
made  on  their  appearance  : — 

''  Oh,  these  are  the  harvest  men,  ten  to  one  they  sing  a  song 
of  mowing."     However,  they  vary  the  song  with 

"  Lo  here  we  come,  a-sowing,  a-sowing." 


Harvest  Songs.  1 83 

And  later  on : — 

*^  So  here  we  come  a-reaping,  a-reaping» 
To  reap  our  harvest  fruit ! 
And  thus  we  pass  the  year  so  along. 
And  never  be  we  route." 

In  Nashe's  "  Summer^s  Last  Will  and  Tesument,"  i6oo» 
Harvest  enters  with  a  scythe  on  his  neck,  and  all  his  reapers  with 
sickles,  and  a  great  black  bowl  with  a  posset  in  it,  borne  before 
him.     Then  follows  the  song  and  chorus : — 

"  Merry,  merry,  merry;  cheary,  cheary,  cheary ; 
Trowl  the  black  bowl  to  me; 
Hey  derry,  derry ;  with  a  poup  and  a  leary, 
I'll  trowl  it  again  to  thee. 

"  Hooky,  hooky,  we  have  shorn. 
And  we  have  bound. 
And  we  have  brought  Harvest 
Home  to  town." 

Drake,  in  ''  Shakespeare  and  His  Times,"  describes  the  Harvest 
Homes  as  not  only  being  remarkable  for  merriment  and  hospitality, 
but  for  a  temporary  suspension  of  inequality  between  master  and 
man.  The  whole  family  sat  down  at  the  same  table,  conversed, 
danced,  and  sang  together  during  the  entire  night,  without 
difference  or  distinction  of  any  kind. 

Herrick,  in  his  ''  Hesperides,''  gives  a  good  description  of  the 
Hock  Cart,  or  Harvest  Home  festival  According  to  Drake, 
the  term  is  derived  from  the  high*rejoicing  cart,  as  applied  to 
the  last  load  of  com.  Thus  Hocl^iide^  from  Saxon  Hoah* 
tide,  or  high-tide,  and  is  expressive  of  the  height  of  festivity. — 
Droit. 

Here  is  the  bill  of  £ire  for  a  Harvest  supper,  according  to 
Herrick : — 

"  Ye  shall  see  6r8t  the  larger  chief, 
Foundation  of  your  feast,  fat  beef ; 


1 84  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

With  upper  stories,  mutton,  veal, 

And  bacon,  which  makes  full  the  meal ; 

With  several  dishes  standing  by. 

As  here  a  custard,  there  a  pie. 

And  here  all  tempting  frumenty. 

And  for  to  make  the  merry  cheer. 

If  smirking  wine  be  wanting  here. 

There's  that  which  drowns  all  care,  stout  beer ; 

Which  freely  drink  to  your  lord's  health. 

Then  to  the  plough,  the  Commonwealth, 

Next  to  your  flails,  your  vanes,  your  oats. 

Then  to  the  maids  with  wheaten  hats ; 

To  the  rough  sickle  and  crook't  sc3rthe. 

Drink,  frolic  boys,  till  all  be  blythe." 

Stevenson,  in  his  ''Twelve*'  Months,  makes  a  prose  poem  on  the 
same  subject  :— 

"  In  August,  the  furmety  pot  welcomes  home  the  harvest 
cart,  and  the  garland  of  flowers  crowns  the  captain  of  the 
reapers:  the  battle  of  the  field  is  now  stoutly  fought.  The 
pipe  and  the  tabour  are  busily  set  a-work,  and  the  lad  and  the 
lass  will  have  no  lead  on  their  heels.  O  'tis  the  merry  time 
wherein  honest  neighbours  make  good  cheer,  and  God  is  glorified 
in  his  blessings  on  the  earth." 

Richard  Dodsley  celebrates  Harvest  Home,  and  the  bringing 
home  the  last  load,  in  a  thankful  spirit : — 

**  At  length,  adorned  with  boughs  and  garlands  gay, 
Nods  the  last  load  along  the  shouting  field. 
Now  to  the  God  of  Harvest  in  a  song 
The  grateful  ^rmer  pays  accepted  thanks, 
With  joy  unfeign'd :  while  to  his  ravish'd  ear 
The  gratulations  of  assisting  swains 
Are  music     His  exulting  soul  expands ; 
He  presses  every  aiding  hand ;  he  bids 
The  plenteous  feast,  beneath  some  spreading  tree, 
Load  the  large  board,  and  circulates  the  bowl, 


Harvest  Songs,  185 

The  copious  bowl,  unmeasured,  unrestrain'd, 
A  free  libation  to  th'  immortal  Gods, 
Who  crown  with  plenty  the  prolific  soil. 
Hail  ^Tour^d  Island !  happy  region,  hail ! 
Whose  temperate  skies,  mild  air,  and  genial  dews. 
Enrich  the  fertile  glebe,  blessing  thy  sons 
With  various  products,  to  the  life  of  man 
Indulgent     Thine  Pomona's  choicest  gift. 
The  tastefid  apple,  rich  with  racy  juice. 
Theme  of  thy  envy'd  song,  Silurian  bard. 
Affording  to  the  swains,  in  sparkling  cups, 
Delicious  beverage." 

jlgriculture^  Canlo  III, 

Bloomfield. 

With  thanks  to  heaven,  and  tales  of  rustic  love. 
The  mansion  echoes  when  the  banquet's  o'er ; 
A  wider  circle  spreads,  and  smiles  abound, 
As  quick  the  frothing  horn  performs  its  round  : 
Care's  mortal  foe,  that  sprightly  joys  imparts, 
To  cheer  their  frame  and  elevate  their  hearts. 

Here  once  a  year  distinction  low'rs  its  crest — 
The  master,  servant,  and  the  merry  guest 
Are  equal  all ;  and  round  the  happy  ring 
The  reaper's  eyes  exulting  glances  fling. 

The  scholarly  Thomson,  in  his  *«  Autumn,"  presents  us  with  a 
perfect  picture  of  Harvest  Home  rejoicings : — 

'^  But  first  the  fuel'd  chimney  blazes  wide; 
The  tankards  foam,  and  the  strong  table  groans 
Beneath  the  smoking  sirloin,  stretch't  immense 
From  side  to  side,  in  which,  with  desperate  knife. 
They  deep  incision  make,  and  talk  the  while 
Of  England's  glory,  ne'er  to  be  defac'd 
While  hence  they  borrow  vigour:  or  amain 


1 86  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Into  the  pasty  plung'd,  at  intervals, 

If  stomach  keen  can  intervals  allow. 

Relating  all  the  glories  of  the  chace. 

Then  sated  Hunger  bids  his  brother  Thirst 

Pixxiuce  the  mighty  bowl;  the  mighty  bowl. 

Swelled  high  with  fiery  juice,  steam's  liberal  round 

A  potent  gale,  delicious  as  the  breath 

Of  Maia  to  the  love*sick  shepherdess, 

On  violets  diffiis'dy  while  soft  she  hears 

Her  panting  shepherd  stealing  to  her  arms. 

Nor  wanting  is  the  brown  October,  drawn. 

Mature  and  perfect,  from  his  dark  retreat 

Of  thirty  years ;  and  now  his  honest  front 

Flames  in  the  light  refulgent,  not  afraid 

Ev'n  with  the  vineyard's  best  produce  to  vie. 

To  cheat  the  thirsty  moments,  Whist  awhile 

Walks  his  dull  round,  beneath  a  cloud  of  smoke, 

Wreath'd,  fragrant,  from  the  pipe ;  or  the  quick  dice. 

In  thunder  leaping  fh>m  the  box,  awake 

The  sounding  gammon  :  while  romp-loving  miss 

Is  haul'd  about,  in  gallantry  robust. 

At  last  these  puling  idlenesses  laid 
Aside,  frequent  and  full,  the  dry  divan 
Close  in  firm  circle ;  and  set,  ardent,  in 
For  serious  drinking.     Nor  evasion  sly. 
Nor  sober  shift,  is  to  the  puking  wretch 
Indulg'd  apart  $  but  earnest,  brimming  bowls 
Lave  every  soul,  the  table  floating  round, 
And  pavement,  faithless  to  the  fuddled  foot. 
Thus  as  they  swim  in  mutual  swill,  the  talk, 
Vociferous  at  once  from  twenty  tongues. 
Reels  £»t  from. theme  to  theme;  from  horses,  hounds, 
To  church  or  mistress,  politics  or  ghost. 
In  endless  mazes,  intricate,  perplex'd. 
Meantime,  with  sudden  interruption,  loud, 
Th'  impatient  catch  bursts  firora  the  joyous  heart ; 
''Phat  moment  touched  is  every  kindred  soul; 


Harvest  Songs,  1 8  7 

And,  opening  in  a  fu]l-mouth'd  cry  of  joy, 

The  laugh,  the  slap,  the  jocund  curse,  go  round ; 

While,  from  their  slumbers  shook,  the  kennel'd  hounds 

Mix  in  the  music  of  the  day  again. 

As  when  the  tempest,  that  has  vex'd  the  deep 

The  dark  night  long,  with  fainter  murmur  falls: 

So  gradual  sinks  their  mirth.     Their  feeble  tongues 

Unable  to  take  up  the  cumbrous  word, 

Lie  quite  dissolved.     Before  their  maudlin  eyes. 

Seen  dim,  and  blue,  the  double  tapers  dance. 

Like  the  sun  wading  through  the  misty  sky. 

Then  sliding  soft,  they  drop.     Confus'd  above. 

Glasses  and  bottles,  pipes  and  gazeteers. 

As  if  the  table  ev'n  itself  was  drunk. 

Lie  a  wet  broken  scene;  and  wide,  below. 

Is  heap'd  the  social  slaughter,  where  astride 

The  iiMer  Power  in  filthy  triumph  sits. 

Slumberous,  inclining  still  from  side  to  side. 

And  steeps  them  drenched  in  potent  sleep  till  morn. 

Perhaps  some  doctor,  of  tremendous  paunch 

Aweful  and  deep,  a  black  abyss  of  drink. 

Out-lives  them  all  ;  and  from  his  bury'd  flock 

Retiring,  full  of  rumination  sad. 

Laments  the  weakness  of  these  latter  times. 

Robert    Bloomfield  grows   equally  eloquent   in   singing   the 
praises  of  the  waning  year  and  the  passing  seasons : — 

"  Now  noon  gone  by,  and  four  declining  hours. 
The  weary  limbs  relax  their  boasted  powers ; 
Thirst  rages  strong,  the  fainting  spirits  fail, 
And  ask  the  sovereign  cordial,  home*brew'd  ale: 
Beneath  some  sheltering  heap  of  yellow  com 
Rests  the  hoop'd  keg,  and  friendly  cooling  horn. 
That  mocks  alike  the  goblet's  brittle  frame, 
Its  costlier  potions,  and  its  nobler  name. 
To  Mary  first  the  brimming  draught  is  given, 
Bv  toil  made  welcome  as  the  dews  of  heaven. 


1 88  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  oeyer  lip  that  press'd  its  homely  edge 
Had  kinder  blessings,  or  a  heartier  pledge. 
•  ••••• 

Now  ere  sweet  Summer  bids  its  long  adieu. 

And  winds  blow  keen  where  late  the  blossom  grew, 

The  bustling  day  and  jovial  night  must  come. 

The  long  accustom'd  feast  of  Harvest  Home. 

No  blood-stain*d  victory,  in  story  bright. 

Can  give  the  philosophic  mind  delight; 

No  triumph  please,  while  rage  and  death  destroy: 

Reflection  sickens  at  the  monstrous  joy. 

And  where  the  joy,  if  rightly  understood 

Like  cheerful  praiise  for  universal  good  ? 

The  soul  nor  check  nor  doubtful  anguish  knows. 

But  pure  and  free  the  grateful  current  flows. 

Behold  the  sound  oak  table's  massy  frame 
Bestride  the  kitchen  floor  1  the  careful  dame 
And  gen*rou8  host  invite  their  friends  around. 
For  all  that  cleared  the  crop,  or  til  I'd  the  ground. 
Are  guests  by  right  of  custom :— old  and  young; 
And  many  a  neighbouring  yeoman  join  the  throng, 
With  artisans  that  lent  their  dex'trous  aid. 
When  o'er  each  field  the  flaming  sunbeams  play'd. 

Yet  plenty  reigns,  and  from  her  boundless  hoard, 
Though  not  one  jelly  trembles  on  the  board. 
Supplies  the  feast  with  all  that  sense  can  crave ; 
With  all  that  made  our  great  fore^thers  brave, 
Ere  the  doy'd  palate  countless  flavours  tried, 
And  cooks  had  Nature's  judgment  set  aside. 
With  thanks  to  Heaven,  and  tales  of  rustic  lore, 
The  mansion  echoes  when  the  banquet 's  o'er  ; 
A  wider  circle  spreads,  and  smiles  abound. 
As  quick  the  frothing  horn  performs  its  round; 
Care's  mortal  foe;  that  sprightly  joys  imparts 
To  cheer  their  frame  and  elevate  their  hearts. 
Here,  fresh  and  brown,  the  hazel's  produce  lies 
In  tempting  heaps,  and  peals  of  laughter  rise. 


Harvest  Songs.  1 89 

And  crackling  music,  with  the  frequent  song, 
Unheeded  bear  the  midnight  hour  along. 

Here  once  a  year  Distinction  low'rs  its  crest, 
The  master,  servant,  and  the  meny  guest. 
Are  equal  all  $  and  round  the  happy  ring 
The  reaper's  eyes  exultant  glances  fling, 
And,  warm'd  with  gratitude,  he  quits  his  place. 
With  sunburnt  hands  and  ale-enliyen'd  face. 
Refills  the  jug  his  honoured  host  to  tend. 
To  serve  at  once  his  master  and  the  friend ; 
Proud  thus  to  meet  his  smiles,  to  share  his  tale. 
His  nuts,  his  conversation,  and  his  ale. 

Such  were  the  days— of  days  long  past  I  sing. 
When  Pride  gave  place  to  Mirth  without  a  sting; 
Ere  tyrant  customs  strength  sufficient  bore 
To  violate  the  feelings  of  the  poor ; 
To  leave  them  distanced  in  the  maddening  race. 
Where'er  refinement  shews  its  hated  face. 
Nor  causeless  hatred ; — 'tis  the  peasant's  curse, 
That  hourly  makes  his  wretched  station  worse ; 
Destroys  life's  intercourse  ;  the  social  plan 
That  rank  to  rank  cements,  as  man  to  man : 
Wealth  flows  around  him,  Fashion  lordly  reigns; 
Yet  poverty  is  his,  and  mental  pains. 

Our  annual  feast,  when  earth  her  plenty  yields. 

When  crown'd  with  boughs  the  last  load  quits  the  fields. 

The  aspect  still  of  ancient  joy  puts  on ; 

The  aspect  only,  with  the  substance  gone. 

The  self-same  horn  is  now  at  her  command, 

But  serves  none  now  but  the  plebeian  handi: 

For  horoe-brew'd  ale,  neglected  and  debased. 

Is  quite  discarded  from  the  realms  of  taste, 

Where  unaflected  freedom  charm'd  the  souL" 

There  is  true  philosophy  in  the  last  few  lines.  When  the 
masters  came  to  discard  ale  and  drink  wine,  one  bond  of  sym- 
pathy between  themselves  and  their  men  was  loosened. 


1 90  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Mr  Motes  Mendez,  in  his  ^  Imitations  of  Spencer,"  gives  a 
charming  description  of  the  Autumnal  rejoicings : — 

"  See  jolly  Autumn,  clad  in  hunter's  green, 

In  wholesome  lusty-hed  doth  mount  the  sphere, 
A  leafy  girlond  binds  her  temples  sheen, 

Instudded  richly  with  the  spiky  ear. 

Her  right  hand  bears  a  vine-endrcled  spear, 
Such  as  the  crew  did  whom  Bacchus  lad, 

When  to  the  Ganges  he  his  course  did  steer; 
And  in  her  left  a  bugle  horn  she  had. 
On  which  she  eft  did  blow,  and  made  the  heart  right  glad." 

'*  In  slow  procession  moves  the  tottering  wain, 
The  sunburnt  hinds  their  finished  toil  ensue; 

Now  in  the  bam  they  house  the  glittering  grain ; 
And  there  the  cries  of  *  harvest  home '  renew, 
The  honest  farmer  doth  his  friends  salew  ; 

And  them  with  jugs  of  ale  his  wife  doth  treat. 
Which,  for  that  purpose,  she  at  home  did  brew. 

They  laugh,  they  sport,  and  homely  jests  repeat. 

Then  smack  their  lasses'  lips,  their  lips  as  honey  sweet." 


"  Now  harvest  is  over 
We'll  make  a  great  noise. 
Our  master,  he  says, 
You  are  welcome,  brave  boys ; 
We'll  broach  the  old  beer 
And  we'll  knock  along, 
And  now  we  will  sing  an  old  harvest  song." 

Here  are  a  few  local  songs,  which  exhibit  through  all*  the 
same  kindly  hospitable  feelings.  The  Suffolk  song  was  always 
sung  by  the  oldest  labourer  on  the  estate,  though  every  man 
present  knew  it  by  heart,  and  knew  where  the  laugh  came  in. 
Still,  the  song  was  always  new,  and  the  chorus  a  thing  to 
remember.  The  same  old  jest  reverts  upon  the  crowd,  and  by 
tradition  is  for  wit  allowed.     To  have  omitted  this  song  in  a 


Harvest  Songs.  191 

harrest  feast,  would  have  been  held  as  a  marked  insult  to  the 
master  and  mistress.  Though  called  a  Suffolk  song,  it  is  not 
peculiar  to  that  county.  I  have  heard  it  sung  consuntly  in 
Hampshire. 


Suffolk  Harvbst«Home  Song. 

Here's  a  health  unto  our  master, 

The  founder  of  the  feast! 

I  wish  with  all  my  heart  and  soul 

In  heaven  he  may  find  rest. 

I  hope  all  things  may  prosper. 

That  ever  he  takes  in  hand; 

For  we  are  all  his  servants, 

And  all  at  hb  conunand. 

Drink,  bo3rs,  drink,  and  see  you  do  not  spill, 

For  if  you  do  you  must  drink  two, — it  is  our  master's  will. 

Now  our  harvest  is  ended. 

And  supper  is  past; 

Here's  our  mistress'  good  health. 

In  a  full  flowing  glass! 

She  is  a  good  woman, — 

She  prepared  us  good  cheer; 

Come,  all  my  brave  boys. 

And  drink  off  your  beer. 

Drink,  my  boys,  drink,  till  you  come  unto  me. 

The  longer  we  sit,  my  boys,  the  merrier  we  shall  be. 

In  yon  greenwood  there  lies  an  old  fox, 
Close  by  his  den  you  may  catch  him,  or  no ; 
Ten  thousand  to  one  you  catch  him,  or  no. 
His  beard  and  his  brush  are  all  of  one  colour^ — 

(  Tales  the  glass  and  empties  it  of) 
I  sorry,  kind  sir,  that  your  glass  is  no  fuller. 
HTis  down  the  red  lane,  'tis  down  the  red  lane ! 
So  merrily  hunt  the  fox  down  the  red  lane. 


192  In  Praise  of  Ale. 


Cornish  Harvest-Home  Song. 
From  the  Deuteromeliay  1609. 

"  This  songy"  says  Mr  W.  Sandys,  ^  is  similar  in  efiect  to 
the  Barley  Mow  song.  The  soccessive  verses  increase  from  the 
nipperkin  to  the  ocean,  each  repeating  all  the  previous  ones." 

Give  us  once  a  drinke  for  and  the  black  bole. 

Sing  gentle  butler  holla  moy; 
For  and  the  black  bole. 

Sing  gentle  butler,  holla  moy. 

Give  us  once  a  drink  for  and  the  pint  pot. 

Sing  gentle  butler  holla  mcy; 
The  pint  pot, 

For  and  the  black  bole,  &c. 

Give  us  once  a  drink  for  and  die  quart  pot. 

Sing  gentle  butler  holla  moyi 
The  quart  pot,  the  pint  pot. 

For  and  the  black  bole,  &c. 

Give  us  once  a  drink  for  and  the  pottle  pot, 

Sing  gentle  butler  hoBa  may; 
The  pottle  pot,  the  quart  pot,  the  pint  pot. 
For  and  the  black  bole,  &c. 


Give  us  once  a  drink  for  and  the  gallon  pot. 

Sing  gentle  butler  hallo  moy: 
The  gallon  pot,  the  pottle  pot,  the  quart  pot,  the  pint  pot. 
For  and  the  black  bole,  &c. 


Harvest  Songs.  1 93 

Give  ut  once  a  drink  for  and  the  verkin, 

Sing,  gentle  butler,  haffa  may; 
The  verkin,  the  gallon  pot,  the  pottle  pot,  the  quart  pot,  the  pint 
pot. 

For  and  the  black  bole.  Sec, 

Give  us  kilderkin,  5cc.,  give  uf  barrel],  &c.. 

Give  08  hogshead,  &c.. 
Give  us  {npe,  &c.,  give  us  bun,  &c.. 

Give  us  the  tunne,  &c. 

Theac  additional  verses  are  from  "Peroela,"  by  Ravenscroft : — 

**  Let's  have  a  peal  for  John  Cooke's  soul, 
F'or  he  was  an  honest  man ; 
With  beUs  all  in  order,  the  cruse  with  the  black  bowl, 
The  tankard  likewise  with  the  can. 

**  And  I  mine  own  self,  will  ring  the  treble  bell, 
And  drink  to  you  every  one: 
Stand  fast  now  my  mates,  sing  merrily  and  well. 
Till  all  this  good  ale  is  gone." 

The  next  is  quoted  by  Mr  J.  H.  Dixon,  in  the  Roxburgh 
Collection.  The  allusion  to  the  parson  and  his  tithes  shows  that 
the  inception  of  the  anti-tithe  lesson  is  not  new : — 


Harvest  Home  Song. 

Our  oats  they  are  howed,  and  our  barieys  reaped. 
Our  hay  is  mowed  and  our  hovels  heaped; 

Harvest  Home  !   Harvest  Home  ! 
We'll  merrily  roar  out  our  harvest  home  ! 

Harvest  Home  !   Harvest  Home  ! 
We'll  merrily  roar  out  our  harvest  home ! 
We'll  merrily  roar  out  our  harvest  home  ! 


1 94  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

We  cheated  the  parson,  we'll  cheat  him  again ; 
For  why  should  the  vicar  have  one  in  ten  ? 

One  in  ten  !  One  in  ten ! 
For  why  should  the  vicar  have  one  in  ten  ? 
For  why  should  the  vicar  have  one  in  ten  ? 
For  staying  while  dinner  is  cold  and  hot. 
And  pudding  and  dumpling's  burnt  to  pot; 

Burnt  to  pot  I  Burnt  to  pot ! 
Till  pudding  and  dumpling's  burnt  to  poty 

Burnt  to  pot !  Burnt  to  pot ! 

We'll  drink  off  the  liquor  while  we  can  stand. 
And  hey  for  the  honour  of  Old  England ! 

Old  England  !  Old  England  ! 
And  hey  for  the  honour  of  Old  England ! 

Old  England  !  Old  England  ! 

Another  version  of  the  above  shows  a  marked  variation  in 
the  wording.  The  followmg  edition  is  entitled  ^  King  Arthur, 
or  the  British  Worthy,"  and  in  a  note  the  compiler  of  the 
collection  says : — 

^  This  rustic  madrigal,  with  its  rant  against  the  parsons,  forms 
part  of  the  enchantment  of  Merlin,  and  is  sung  by  Comus  and 
peasants.  The  introduction  of  Comus  is  as  anomalous  as  the 
allusion  to  tithes." 


Harvest  Home. 

Your  hay  it  is  mowed,  and  your  com  is  reaped; 
Your  bams  will  be  full,  and  your  hovels  heaped. 

Come,  my  boys,  come ; 

Come,  my  boys,  come ; 
And  merrily  roar  out  harvest  home  ! 

Harvest  home. 

Harvest  home ; 
And  merrily  roar  out  harvest  home ! 
Come,  my  boys,  come,  &c. 


Harvest  Songs.  1 95 

We  have  cheated  the  parson,  we'll  cheat  him  again, 
For  why  should  a  blockhead  have  one  in  ten  ? 

One  in  ten. 

One  in  ten  ; 
For  why  should  a  blockhead  have  one  in  ten, 
For  prating  so  long  like  a  book-learned  sot. 
Till  pudding  and  dumpling  bum  to  pot. 

Bum  to  pot. 

Bum  to  pot ; 
Till  pudding  and  dumpling  bum  to  pot. 
Bum  to  pot,  &c. 

We'll  toss  off  our  ale  till  we  cannot  stand, 
And  hoigh  for  the  honour  of  Old  England ; 

Old  England, 

Old  England ; 
And  hoigh  for  the  honour  of  Old  England. 
Old  England,  &c. 

'^The  Countryman's  Wish,"  fh)m  the  "Loyal  Garland," 
pubUshed  in  1686,  shows  the  extent  of  his  modest  and  laudable 
ambition  : — 


The  Countryman's  Wish. 
To  the  tune  of  "  As  May,  in  all  her  youthful  dress." 

Let  joy  in  smiles  be  ever  seen, 

And  kind  as  when  our  loves  begun. 
And  be  my  pastures  ever  green, 

And  new  crops  spring  when  Harvest's  done, 
My  cattle  thrive  and  still  be  fat. 
And  I  my  wish  shall  find  in  that 

O  let  my  table  fiimish'd  be 

With  good  fat  beef  and  bacon  too. 
And  nappy  ale  be  ever  free, 

To  strangers  that  do  come  and  go. 

N  2 


1 96  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

My  yards  with  poultry  and  swine 

Well  stoPdy  and  eke  my  ponds  with  fish. 

My  bams  well  crammed  with  hay  and  grain, 
And  I  shall  have  my  wish  in  this. 


Let  me  in  peace  and  quiet  live. 

Free  from  all  discontent  and  strife; 
And  know  from  whom  I  all  receive. 

And  lead  a  homely  harmless  life. 
Be  neat  in  homespun  clothing  clad ; 

And  still  to  add  to  all  my  bliss. 
My  children  train  i'  th'  fear  of  God  : 

And  this  is  all  on  earth  I  wish. 

Neither  the  above  nor  the  following  are  strictly  Harvest  Home 
songs,  yet  they  run  so  well  together,  that  it  is  a  pity  to  separate 
them: — 

The  Farmer's  Wife's  Drmr. 
By  T.  Jones. 

Ye  Londoners  all,  though  so  gay. 

Attend  to  a  ^rmePs  wife's  ditty, 
Nor  wantonly  flout  her,  I  pray, 

Who  sings  not  the  charms  of  the  city : 

For  what  can  compare  with  green  fields. 
Or  their  produce  which  Nature  has  sent ; 

For  the  health  that  good  exercise  yields, 
Makes  happy  the  farmers  of  Kent. 

At  noorning  the  sun  gilds  the  vale; 

At  evening  as  Sol's  beams  depart, 
The  farmer  rejoices  in  ale, 

And  drinks  to  the  friends  of  his  heart. 

Cbomi — Then  what  can  compare,  &c. 


Harvest  Songs.  197 

Here  labour  relies  on  repose, 
To  strengthen  for  each  coming  day; 

Here  the  wild  flower,  the  pink,  and  the  rose, 
All  bloom  in  the  bosom  of  May. 

Chorus — Then  what  can  compare,  &c. 

Such,  such  are  the  joys  of  green  fields. 

Which  breeds  in  a  cottage  content; 
To  partake  of  the  produce  it  yields, 

You're  welcome,  with  farmers  of  Kent. 

Chorus — ^Then  what  can  compare,  6rc. 

Haymaking  songs  come,  of  course,  under  the  generic  term  of 
Harvest  Home  rejoicings.  The  following  is  an  old  and  favourite 
ditty: — 

The  Haymakul's  Song. 

In  the  merry  nx>nth  of  June, 

In  the  prime  time  of  the  year; 
Down  in  yonder  meadows 

There  runs  a  river  clear: 
And  many  a  little  fish 

Doth  in  that  river  play  ; 
And  many  a  lad  and  many  a  lass, 

Go  abroad  a -making  hay. 

In  come  the  jolly  mowers 

To  mow  the  meadows  down ; 
With  budget  and  with  bottle 

Of  ale,  both  stout  and  brown. 
All  labouring  men  of  courage  bold 

Come  here  their  strength  to  try; 
They  sweat  and  Uow,  and  cut  and  mow. 

For  the  grass  cuts  very  dry. 

Here's  nimble  Ben  and  Tom, 

With  pitchfork  and  with  rake; 
Here's  Molly,  Liz,  and  Susan, 

Come  here  their  hay  to  make. 


198  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

While  sweet  jug,  jug,  jug,  jug! 

The  nightingale  doth  sing. 
From  morning  unto  even-song, 

As  they  are  haymaking. 

And  when  that  bright  day  faded, 

And  the  sun  was  going  down, 
There  was  a  merry  piper 

Approached  from  the  town : 
He  pulled  out  his  pipe  and  tabor. 

So  sweetly  he  did  play, 
Which  made  all  lay  down  their  rakes 

And  leave  off  making  hay. 

Then  joining  in  a  dance, 

They  jig  it  o'er  the  green ; 
Though  tired  with  their  labour. 

No  one  less  was  seen. 
But  sporting  like  some  fairies, 

Their  dance  they  did  pursue, 
In  leading  up,  and  casting  off. 

Till  morning  was  in  view. 

And  when  that  bright  daylight. 

The  morning  it  was  come. 
They  laid  down  and  rested 

Till  the  rising  of  the  sun  : 
When  the  merry  larks  do  sing. 

And  each  lad  did  rise  and  take  his  lass. 
And  away  to  haymaking. 

The  next  song  has  the  same  title,  bat  the  subject  is  treated 
differently,  and  is  much  more  characteristic  of  the  old  English 
style : — 

Thb  Haymaker's  Song. 

Come,  neighbours,  now  weVe  made  our  hay, 

The  sun  in  haste 

Drives  to  the  west, 
With  sports,  with  sports  conclude  the  day; 


Harvest  Sonj^s,  1 99 

Let  every  man  choose  out  his  lass, 
And  then  salute  her  on  the  grass; 
And  when  you  find 
She's  coming  kind, 
Let  not  that  moment  pass; 

Then  we'll  toss  off  our  bowls, 

To  true  love  and  honour. 
To  all  kind  loving  girls, 
And  the  lord  of  the  manor. 

At  night  when  round  the  hall  we  sit. 

With  good  brown  bowls 

To  cheer  our  souls, 
And  raise,  and  raise  a  merry  chat: 
When  blood  grows  warm,  and  love  runs  high. 
And  jokes  around  the  table  fly. 

Then  we  retreat. 

And  that  repeat 
Which  all  would  gladly  try. 
Chonu — ^Then,  &c. 

Let  lazy  great  ones  of  the  town 

Drink  night  away. 

And  sleep  all  day, 
Till  gouty,  gouty  they  are  grown ; 
Our  daily  works  such  vigour  give. 
That  nightly  sports  we  oft  revive, 

And  kiss  our  dames 

With  stronger  flames 
Than  anyj)rince  alive. 

Chorus — Then,  &c. 

Here  is  another  hay  harvest  song,  known 

The  Craven  Churn-Supper  Song. 

*<  In  some  of  the  more  renK>te  dales  of  Craven,"  says  Bell,  in 
his  «« Ancient  Poems  of  the  Peasantry  ;"  "it  is  customary  at  the 


200  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

close  of  the  hay-hanrest  for  the  farmers  to  gi?e  an  entertainment 
to  their  men;  this  is  called  the  chum -supper.  At  these  the 
masters  and  their  families  attend,  and  share  in  the  general  mirth. 
The  men  mask  themsdres,  and  dress  in  a  grotesque  manner^  and 
are  allowed  the  pririlege  of  playing  harmless  practical  jokes  on 
their  employers,  &c.  The  song  has  ne?er  before  been  printed. 
There  is  a  marked  resemblance  between  it  and  the  song  *  A  Cup 
of  Old  Stingo.'  ** 

God  rest  you,  merry  gentlemen ! 
Be  not  movM  at  my  strain, 
For  nothing  study  shall  my  brain. 

But  for  to  make  you  laugh : 
For  I  came  here  to  this  feast. 
For  to  laugh,  carouse,  and  jest. 
And  welcome  shall  be  erery  guest. 

To  take  his  cup  and  quaff. 

Cbonu'^^  frolicsome  every  one, 
Melancholy  none ; 
Drink  about! 
See  it  out. 

And  then  we'll  all  go  home, 
And  then  we'll  all  go  home! 

This  ale  it  is  a  gallant  thing. 

It  cheers  the  spirits  of  a  king; 

It  makes  a  dumb  man  strive  to  sing, 

Aye,  and  a  beggar  play! 
A  crippk  that  is  lame  and  halt. 
And  scarce  a  mile  a  day  can  walk, 
When  he  feels  the  juice  of  malt, 

Will  throw  his  crutch  away. 

Chonu — Be  frolicsome,  &c. 

Twill  make  the  parson  forget  his  men, 
Twill  make  his  clerk  forget  his  pen, 
Twill  turn  a  uilor's  giddy  brain, 
And  make  him  break  his  wand. 


Harvest  Songs.  201 

The  blackimith  Joves  it  as  his  life, — 
It  makes  the  tinkler  bang  his  wife, — 
Aye,  and  the  butcher  seek  his  knife, 
When  he  has  it  in  his  hand! 

Cborui — Be  frolicsome,  &c. 

So  now  to  conclude,  my  merry  boys  all, 
Let's  with  strong  liquor  take  a  fall, 
Although  the  weakest  goes  to  the  wall. 

The  best  is  but  a  play ! 
For  water  it  concludes  in  noise, 
Good  ale  will  cheer  our  hearts,  brave  boys ; 
Then  put  it  round  with  a  cheerfid  voice, 

We  meet  not  every  day. 

Cbonu — Be  frolicsome,  &c. 

1  am  indebted  to  Messrs  Novello,  Ewer  $l  Co.  for  permission 
to  reprint  the  two  following  modem  songs;  they  form  a  pleasmg 
contrast  to  the  older  ones.  The  second  song  is  more  in  the 
nature  of  a  hymn,  as  it  combines  both  praise  and  prayer  in  its  two 
stanzas: — 

Harvist  Song. 

Words  by  Mrs  Newton  Crosland.     Music  by  Walter  Cecil 

Macfarren. 

Our  wealth  is  not  of  dismal  mines. 

Or  from  the  newly  vaunted  West ; 
But  golden  grain  which  burnished  shines, 

With  bearded  pride,  and  nodding  crest. 
And  as  we  count  this  wealth  in  store. 
We  spread  the  news  from  shore  to  shore. 

When  waggons  creak,  and  golden  grain 

Rustles  along  the  shady  lane. 

Heigh!  for  the  Harvest  Home! 

The  reapers  reap  with  earnest  will. 
And  all  the  golden  spears  are  lower'd, 

As  if  the  sun  they  worshipped  still, 
And  mutely  thus  in  death  adored* 


202  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

For  Nature  oftentiines  we  see, 

Mimica  such  blind  idobtry, 

The  waggons  creak,  and  golden  grain 
Rusdes  along  o'er  hill  and  plain. 
Heigh!  for  the  Harvest  Home! 

The  theayes  are  bound,  and  gleaners  come, 

A  motley  group  of  old  and  young, 
The  tremUing  crones  who  creep  from  home. 

And  children  with  a  prattling  tongue. 
Oh,  let  us  drop,  and  freely  spare 
For  Poverty  the  gleaners'  share. 

When  waggons  creak,  and  golden  grain 

Rustles  along  oVr  hill  and  plain. 

Heigh!  for  the  Harvest  Home! 

But  sinks  at  last  the  glowing  sun. 

From  west  to  east  the  shadows  come. 
Our  joyful  task  at  last  is  done, 

And  loud  the  cry  of  "  Harvest  Home." 
Our  granaries  to«day  shall  brim ; 
Our  song  become  a  grateful  hymn, 

For  waggons  creak,  and  golden  grain 

Rustles  along  the  moon-lit  lane. 

Heigh!  for  the  Harvest  Home! 

Hartest  Song. 

Words  by  J.  L.  in  Famiiy  Herald.     Music  by  Benjamin 

Congreve. 

Hail  to  our  harvest  home! 
Brothers  and  sisters  come, 

Join  the  glad  sound: 
Autuniin  has  come  once  more, 
Crown'd  with  a  golden  store, — 
From  hall  to  cottage  door, 

Let  praise  resound. 


Harvest  Songs.  203 

Let  the  glad  song  arise, 
The  heart's  free  sacrifice, 

For  mercies  giv'n : 
Thanks  for  the  summer  hours. 
Thanks  for  the  fruitful  show'rs, 
A  plenteous  crop  is  ours, 

Thanks,  thanks  to  heaven. 

Hail  to  our  harvest,  &c. 
Shine  bright,  O  harvest  moon ! 
As  now  in  joyous  tune. 

We  look  on  thee. 
Shine  bright,  ye  stars  that  shed 
Your  glory  round  our  head, 
Grateful  for  daily  bread 

We'll  ever  be. 
And  Thou,  Great  Source  of  Good, 
Give  us  our  daily  food. 

Once  more  we  pray; 
God  of  the  hill  and  vale. 
As  now  thy  gifts  we  hail, 
That  harvest  ne'er  may  &il, 

Hear  us,  we  pray. 

Hail  to  our  harvest,  &c. 

Here  is  a  good  descriptive  song  in  the  local  dialect  of  Dorset- 
shire, from  the  late  Rev.  W.  Barnes*  poems  in  the  Dorsetshire 
dialect.  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  Messrs  Kegan,  Paul 
&  Co.  for  permission  to  reprint 

Harvest  Hwome. 

The  Vu'st  Peart.     The  Supper. 
Since  we  wer  stripl^ns,  naighbour  John, 
The  good  wold  merry  times  be  gone, 
But  we  do  like  to  think  upon 

What  we've  a-zeed  an'  done. 
When  I  wer  up  a  hardish  lad 
At  harvest  hwome  the  work  vo'k  had 
Sich  suppers,  they  wer  jump^n  mad 

Wi*  feasten  an'  wi*  fun. 


204  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

At  uncle's,  I  do  mind,  woone  year, 

I  zeed  a  Till  o'  hearty  cheer, 

Fat  beef  an'  pudd^,  eale  an'  beer, 

Vor  ev'ry  workman's  crop; 
An*  after  they'd  a-gie* d  God  thanks, 
They  all  zot  down,  in  two  long  ranks, 
Along  a  teable  bwoard  o'  planks, 

Wi'  uncle  at*  the  top. 

An'  there,  in  platters  big  and  brown, 
Wer  red  fat  beacon,  an'  a  roun' 
O'  beef  wi'  gravy  that  would  drown 

A  little  rwoast^n  pig ; 
Wi'  b^ns  an'  teaties  vull  a  zack. 
An'  cabbage  that  would  meake  a  suck, 
An'  pudd^s  brown,  a-speckled  black, 

Wi'  figs,  so  big's  my  wig. 

An'  uncle,  wi'  his  elbows  out. 

Did  canre,  an'  meake  the  gravy  ^out; 

An'  aunt  did  gi'e  the  mugs  about 

A-frorh^n  to  the  brim. 
Pleates  werden  then  ov  e'then  ware, 
They  ate  of  pewter,  that  would  bear 
A  knock;  or  wooded  trenchers,  square, 

Wi'  zalt-holes  at  the  rim. 

An'  zoo  they  munch'd  their  hearty  cheer. 
An'  dipp'd  their  beards  in  frothy-beer. 
An'  laugh'd  and  jok'd — they  coulden  hear 

What  woone  another  zaid. 
An'  all  o'm  drink'd,  wi'  woone  accword, 
The  wold  vo'k's  health,  an'  beat  the  bwoard. 
An'  swung  their  earras  about,  an'  roar'd. 

Enough  to  crack  woone's  head. 


Harvest  Songs.  205 

Harvest  Hwome« 

Stcood  Peart.     What  They  did  after  Supper. 

Zoo  after  supper  were  a-done, 
They  dear'd  the  teablea,  an'  begun 
To  have  a  little  bit  o'  fun, 

As  long  as  they  mid  stop. 
The  wold  woones  took  their  pipes  to  smoke, 
An'  tell  their  teales,  an'  laugh  an'  joke, 
A-lookite  at  the  younger  ?o'k, 

That  got  up  vor  a  hop. 

Woone  screaped  away,  wi'  merry  grin, 
A  fiddle  stuck  below  his  chin ; 
An'  woone  o'ro  took  the  roll^n  pin. 

An'  beat  the  fry^n  pan. 
An'  tothers,  danc^  to  the  soun'. 
Went  in  an'  out,  an'  droo  an'  roun'. 
An'  kick'd,  an'  beat  the  tute  down, 

A-laugh^n,  maid  an'  man. 

An'  then  a  maid,  all  up  tip-tooe, 

Veil  down;  an'  woone  o'm  wi'  his  shoe 

Slit  down  her  pocket  hole  in  two, 

Vrom  top  a-most  to  bottom. 
An'  when  they  had  a-danc*d  enough. 
They  got  a-playto  blindman's  buff. 
An'  sarrd  the  maidens  pretty  rough. 

When  woonce  they  had  a«goc  'em. 

And  zoroe  did  drink,  an'  laugh,  an'  roar. 
An'  lott  o'  teales  they  had  in  store, 
O'  things  that  happen'd  years  avore 

To  them,  and  vo'k  they  know'd. 
An'  zome  did  joke,  an'  zome  did  zing. 
An'  meake  the  girt  wold  kitchen  ring ; 
Till  uncle's  cock,  wi'  flapp^n  wing, 

Strach'd  out  his  neck  an  crow'd. 


2o6  In  Praise  of  Ak. 

A  ZoNG  ov  Harvfvt  Hwomf. 

The  ground  is  clear.     There's  nar  a  ear 
O'  stano^o  com  a-left  out  now, 

Vor  win'  to  blow  or  rain  to  drow ; 
'Tis  all  up  seafe  in  bam  or  mow. 
Here's  health  to  them  that  ploughed  an'  zow'd ; 
Here's  health  to  them  that  reap'd  an'  mow'd, 
An*  them  that  had  to  pitch  an'  'Iwoad, 
Or  tip  the  rick  at  Harvest  Hwome. 

The  happy  zight,  the  merry  night. 

The  men's  delight — the  Harvest  Hwome. 

An'  mid  noo  harm  o'vire  or  storm 

Beval  the  farmer  or  his  com ; 
An'  ev'ry  zack  o'  zeed  gi'e  back 

A  hunderd-vwold  so  much  in  barn. 

An'  mid  his  Meaker  bless  his  store. 

His  wife  an'  all  that  she've  abore, 

An'  keep  all  evil  out  o'  door, 

Vrom  Harvest  Hwome  to  Harvest  Hwome. 
The  happy  zight,  the  merry  night, 
The  men's  delight — the  Harvest  Hwome. 

Mid  noth^n  ill  betide  the  mill. 
As  day  by  day  the  miller's  wheel 

Do  dreve  his  clacks,  an'  heist  his  zack, 
An'  vill  his  bins  wi'  show'r^n  meal. 
Mid's  water  never  overflow 
His  dousty  mill,  nor  zink  too  low, 
Vrom  now  till  wheat  agean  do  grow. 
An'  we've  another  Harvest  Hwome. 

The  happy  zight,  the  merry  night. 

The  men's  delight — the  Harvest  Hwome. 

Drough  cisterns  wet  an'  malt-kil's  het, 
Mid  barley  pay  the  malter's  pains; 

An'  mid  noo  hurt  bevall  the  wort, 
A-bweil^n  vrom  the  brewer's  grains. 


Harvest  Songs.  207 

Mid  all  his  beer  keep  out  o'  harm 

Vrom  bu'sted  hoop  or  thunder  atorm, 

That  we  mid  have  a  mug  to  warm 

Our  merry  hearts  nex'  Harvest  Hwome. 
The  happy  zight,  the  merry  night, 
The  men's  delight — the  Harvest  Hwome. 

Mid  luck  an'  jay  the  beaker  pay, 

As  he  do  hear  his  vier  roar, 
Or  nimbly  catch  his  hot  white  batchy 

A  reek^n  vrom  the  oven  door. 

An*  mid  it  never  be  too  high 

Vor  our  vew  sixpences  to  buy, 

When  we  do  hear  our  children  cry 

Vor  bread,  avore  nex'  Harvest  Hwome. 
The  happy  zight,  the  merry  night. 
The  men's  delight — the  Harvest  Hwome. 

Wi'  jay  o'  heart  mid  shotters  start 

The  whirr^n  pa't ridges  in  vlocks; 
While  shots  do  vlee  drough  bush  an'  tree, 

An'  dogs  do  sun'  so  still  as  stocks. 

An'  let  'em  ramble  round  the  varms 

Wi'  guns  'ithin  their  bended  earms. 

In  goolden  zunsheen  free  o'  storms, 

Rejaic^n  vor  the  Harvest  Hwome. 
The  happy  zight,  the  merry  night, 
The  men's  delight — the  Harvest  Hwome. 

There  is  a  certain  pathos  in  the  descriptive  song  of  "  The  Old 
Farm  House."  It  appears  in  Rhymer's  Collection  without  any 
indications  of  authorship,  except  that  the  music  could  then  be 
obtained  at  Ransford's,  Charles  St.,  Soho  Square, 

The  Old  Farm  House. 

'TIS  a  pleasant  spot  that  old  farm  house 

That  stands  on  the  lonely  way-side. 
Where  the  sweet  woodbine  and  the  eglantine. 

The  rentf  in  its  old  wall  hide. 


2o8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  the  porch  it  seems  as  though  'twould  greet 

Each  wanderer  for  its  guest. 
And  lead  him  where  there  is  hearty  cheer. 

And  a  home  of  tranquil  rest. 

How  joyous  was  that  old  farm  house, 

In  times  that  have  passM  away, 
Where  the  yeomen  took,  in  the  ingle  nook. 

Their  place  at  the  close  of  day. 
And  still  doth  the  merry  husbandmen 

The  mirthful  hours  beguile, 
And  many  a  tale,  as  there  they  regale, 

Is  told  of  that  ancient  pile. 

There  is  a  deal  of  by-play  in  the  following  passages  from 
Dibdin's  operetta  of  the  "  Harvest  Home  " : — 


SCBNB  I. — ^TlUMy  GOODV,  AND  MuZZY. 

Enter  GooJj^  Muzzy^  with  ok. 

Goody,  I  do  wonder,  John  Muzzy,  thou  canst  take  delight  in 
this  filthy  liquor  I  'Tis  fit  for  nothing  but  to  make  thee  quarrel 
with  thy  neighbours. 

Muzzy.  Well,  well !  don't  abuse  it,  wife,  but  gie  it  to  me. 

Goody.  Why,  hast  no  more  manners !  Let  me  drink  to  the 
strangers  first.     Young  men,  your  healths* 

Muz%y.  Faith,  weU  pulled.  Well,  my  lads,  we  shall  have 
rare  work  this  Harvest ;  'tis  to  begin  with  a  wedding,  how  it  will 
end  is  another  matter. 

Glanvilk.  Wounds!  I  do  like  a  wedding,  lyigeously ;  and  who 
is  to  be  married,  pray  ? 

Muzzy,  Sliddikins,  she  is  a  nice  one !  You  must  know  that, 
my  wife. 

Goody.  {PuOmg  htm  away.)  John  Muzzy,  let  me  tell  my  own 
story! 

Muzzy.  What  a  good  creature  it  is !     She  hates  ale  and  will 


Harvest  Songs.  209 

drink  first.     She  never  talks,  and  yet  nobody  must  tell  a  story 
but  herself. 

Reaper,  Measter  Muzzy,  you  be  wanted  in  field.      Madam 
and  the  gentlefolks  be  there. 
Goody,  Run,  John  Muzzy,  run ! 
Mtizzy.  One  pull  first.     (Drinh.) 
Wounds,  here's  such  a  coil!     I  am  none  of  your  poor 
Petty  varlets,  who  flatter  and  cringe  and  procure! 
I  am  a  freeman,  a  nabob,  a  king  on  his  throne. 
For  I  have  chattels  and  goods  and  strong  beer  of  my  own. 
Besides,  'tis  a  rule — that  good  fellows  ne'er  fail 
To  let  every  thing  wait,  but  the  generous  ale. 

My  int'rest  I  love;  thee  I  love  too,  good  wife! 

But  still  I  love  better  a  jovial  life ; 

And  for  thee  or  my  lady,  with  duty  devout 

111  run  to  Old  Nick,  when  the  dobbin's  drank  out 

But  'tis  always  a  rule  that  good  fellows  ne'er  fail 

To  let  every  thing  wait,  but  the  generous  ale. 

Exit 

The    duet    between    Trim    and    Glanville   which  succeeds 
combines  the  virtues  of  love  and  liquor : — 

Glanville,  Sweet,  oh  sweet,  the  breeze  of  morning 

Passing  o*er  the  new-blown  rose. 
Where  verdant  bowers  the  meads  adorning, 

Court  rustic  lovers  to  repose! 
The  gay  domain  of  gentle  Flora, 

And  all  delights  it  can  impart, 
Have  not  a  sweet  like  my  Fleora^ 

Dearrest  flower  of  my  heart. 

Trim.  Sweet,  oh  sweet,  the  humming  liquor 
Mantling  in  the  crystal  glass 
In  which  with  rosy  gills  the  vicar 
Chuckling  toasts  his  favorite  lass. 

o 


2 1  o  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Venus  was  a  buxom  huzzy, 

As  Vulcan,  Mara,  and  Jove  can  tell, 

And  yet  why  may  not  Goody  Muzzy, 
When  one's  sharp  set,  do  as  well  ? 

Glanviffe,  Pity  from  her,  love  invoking, 

To  plead  my  wishes  do  not  fail. 

Irinig  See  with  love  and  thirat  Pm  choking, 
Smile  and  hand  the  mug  of  ale. 

Later  on  Muzzy  sings  another  stave : — 

When  Goody  plays  the  devil  or  so, 
In  midst  of  scolding  strife  or  teara, 

OflF  to  the  ale-house  straight  I  go 
To  drink  my  pint  and  save  my  ears." 

There's  the  tuneful  nightingale. 

Do  I  exchange  the  screechowPs  note. 

For  as  I  drink  the  sparkling  ale, 

I^  jug»  jug»  jug,  goes  down  my  throat. 

Trim,  I  could  sing  you  a  song  to  another  queer  sort  of  burden. — 

When  Goody  Muzz/s  in  a  pout, 

And  scolds,  and  storms,  and  fleers,  and  jaunts. 

Only  to  send  her  husband  out, 
That  die  may  let  in  her  gallants. 

Then,  John,  in  vain  thy  ale  shall  foam. 

And  sparkle  in  its  crystal  bound, 
The  nightingale's  sweet  voice  at  home 

Now  jug,  jug,  jug,  in  kisses  sound. 


Harvest  Songs.  2 1 1 

Pauwell  to  Harvest. 
By  JohD  Scott,  the  scholarly  and  estimable  quaker,  1 757. 

Farewell  the  pleasant  violet-scented  shade; 

The  primrosM  hill  and  daisy-noantled  mead ; 
The  furrow'd  land,  with  springmg  com  array 'd; 

The  sunny  wall,  with  bloomy  branches  spread. 

Farewell  the  bower  with  blushing  roses  gay; 

Farewell  the  fragrant  trefoil-purpled  field; 
Farewell  the  walk  through  rows  of  new-mown  hay, 

When  evening  breezes  mingled  odours  yield. 

Farewell  to  these — now  round  the  lonely  farms, 
Where  jocund  Plenty  deigns  to  ^x  her  seat; 

Th'  autumnal  landscape  opening  all  its  charms. 
Declares  kind  Nature's  annual  work  complete. 

Indifierent  what  different  views  delight. 

Where  on  neat  ridges  waves  the  golden  grain ; 

Or  where  the  bearded  barley  dazzling  white. 
Spreads  o'er  the  steepy  slope  or  wide  champaign. 

The  smile  of  Morning  gleams  along  the  hills; 

And  wakeful  Labour  calls  her  sons  abroad; 
They  leave  with  cheerful  look  their  lowly  rills. 

And  bid  the  fields  resign  their  ripen'd  load. 

To  various  tasks  address  the  rustic  band. 

And  here  the  scythe,  and  there  the  sickle  wield; 

Or  rear  the  new-bound  sheaves  along  the  land ; 
Or  range  in  heaps  the  produce  of  the  field. 

Some  build  the  shocks,  some  load  the  spacious  wains, 
Some  lead  to  sheltering  bams  the  fragrant  corn, 

Some  form  tall  ricks  that  tow'ring  o'er  the  plains, 
For  many  a  mile  the  mral  yards  adorn. 

O  2 


212  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Th'  inciosure  gates  thrown  open  all  around, 
The  stubble's  peopled  by  the  gleaning  throng, 

The  rattling  car  with  verdant  branches  crown'd, 
And  joyful  swains  that  raise  the  clamorous  song, 

Soon  mark  glad  harvest  o'er. — Ye  rural  lords, 
Whose  wide  domains  o'er  Albion's  isle  extend, 

Think  whose  kind  hand  your  annual  wealth  affords, 
And  bid  to  heaven  your  grateful  praise  ascend. 

For  though  no  gift  spontaneous  of  the  ground 

Rose  those  fair  crops  that  made  your  valleys  smile. 

Though  the  blithe  youth  of  every  hamlet  round 
Pursued  for  these  through  many  a  day  their  toil, 

Yet  what  avail  your  labours  or  your  cares  ? 

Can  all  your  labours,  all  your  cares,  supply 
Bright  suns  or  softening  showers,  or  tepid  airs, 

Or  one  indulgent  influence  of  the  sky? 

Prolific  though  thy  fields,  and  mild  thy  clime, 

Know  realms,  once  fam'd  for  fields  and  climes  as  fair, 

Have  fell  the  prey  of  famine,  war,  and  time, 
And  now  no  semblance  of  their  glory  bear. 

•  •••••• 

O  haste  to  grace  our  isle,  ye  lovely  train ! 

So  may  the  Power  whose  hand  all  blessing  yields. 
Give  her  fum'd  glories  ever  to  remain. 

And  crown  with  annual  wealth  her  laughing  fields. 


213 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

GENERAL  SONGS. 

"  Hermit  hoar,  in  solemn  cell^ 

IVearing  out  lifts  evening gray^ 
Smite  thy  bosom  sage^  and  tell^ 

What  is  bliss f  and  which  the  way  ? 

**  Thus  I  spoke ^  and  speaking  sighed^ 
Scarce  repressed  the  starting  tear; 
When  the  wilRng  sage  repBed — 

ComCf  my  lad^  and  drink  some  heer*^ 

Johnson. 


"  When  the  brisk  glass  to  freedom  doth  entire^ 
And  rigid  wisdom  is  a  kind  of  vice,** 

Stillingfleet. 

Having  given  so  many  carols,  Whitsun  and  Harvest  songs,  it 
is  time  to  give  specimens  of  the  rich  variety  of  general  songs  and 
ballads  that  have  been  written.  Many  of  the  best  songs  of  this 
description  bear  date  between  i  5  50  and  1 650.  I  take  it  thst 
the  bulk  of  these  are  much  older  than  the  date  assigned  them, 
but  that  they  were  rescued  from  tradition  by  the  art  of  printing 
at  the  respective  dates  they  bear.  For  instance,  Warton  describes 
Bishop  StilPs  song  of  <«  Jolly  Good  Ale  and  Old  **  as  the  first 
Chanson  a  btnre  in  the  English  language;  This  must  have  been 
slightly  incorrect,  since  Dyce  gives  the  following  ballad  from 
which  Still  must  have  taken  his  inspiration.     I  quote  this  ballad 


214  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

from  "  Bell's  Songs  of  the  Dramatists,"  as  Burns  adapted  <'  John 
Barleycorn  '*  to  a  modem  dress: — 

Back  and  Syde  goo  Bare. 

Back  and  syde  goo  bare  goo  bare 
both  hande  and  foote  goo  colde 
but  belly  god  sende  the  good  ale  inowghe 
whether  hyt  be  newe  or  olde. 

but  yf  that  I  may  have  trwly 

good  ale  my  belly  full 

I  shall  looke  lyke  one  by  swete  Saint  Johnn 

were  shoron  agaynste  the  woole 

thowte  I  goo  bare  take  you  no  care 

I  am  nothing  colde 

I  stufie  my  skynne  so  fi|ll  within 

of  joly  goode  ale  and  olde. 

I  cannot  eate  but  lytyll  meate 

my  Bellie  ys  not  goode 

but  sore  I  thyncke  that  I  cowd  dryncke 

with  hym  that  werythe  an  hoode 

dryncke  is  my  life  althowghe  my  wyfe 

some  tyme  do  chyde  and  scolde 

yet  spare  I  not  to  plye  the  potte 

of  joly  goode  ale  and  olde. 

back  and  syde  goo  bare  goo  bare,  &c. 

I  love  noo  roste  but  a  browne  toste 

or  a  crabbe  in  the  fyer 

a  lytyll  bread  shall  do  me  steade 

mooche  breade  I  newer  desyer 

nor  froste  nor  snowe  nor  wynde  I  trow 

canne  hurte  me  yf  hyt  wolde 

I  am  so  wrapped  within  and  lapped 

with  joly  goode  ale  and  olde. 

backe  and  syde  goo  bare,  &c. 


General  Songs.  215 

I  *care  ryte  nowghte  I  take  no  thowte 

for  clothes  to  kepe  me  warme 

have  I  goode  dryncke  I  surely  thyncke 

nothing  can  doe  me  harme 

for  trwiy  than  I  feare  no  man 

be  be  never  so  bolde 

when  I  am  armed  and  throwly  warmed 

with  joly  goode  ale  and  olde. 

back  and  syde  goo  bare,  &c. 

but  now  and  than  I  curse  and  banne 

they  make  ther  ale  so  smalle 

god  geve  them  care  and  erill  to  faare 

they  strye  the  malte  and  alle 

sooche  pevisshe  pewe  I  tell  yowe  trwe 

not  for  a  croone  of  golde 

ther  commethe  one  syppe  within  my  lyppe 

whether  hyt  be  newe  or  olde. 

backe  and  syde  goo  bare,  6cc. 

good  ale  and  stronge  maketh  me  amongc 

full  joconde  and  full  lyte 

that  ofte  I  slepe  and  take  no  kepe 

from  nK>ming  vntyll  nyte 

then  starte  1  vppe  and  fle  to  the  cuppe 

the  ryte  waye  on  I  holde 

my  thurste  to  staunche  I  fyll  my  paynche 

with  joly  goode  ale  and  olde. 

backe  and  syde  goo  bare,  6cc. 

an  Kytte  my  wife  that  at  he  lyfe 

lorethe  well  goode  ale  to  seke 

full  ofte  drynkythe  she  that  ye  maye  se 

the  tears  ronne  downe  her  cheke 

then  doth  she  troule  to  me  the  bolle 

as  a  goode  malte  worroe  sholde 

and  saye  swete  harte  I  have  take  my  parte 

of  joly  goode  ale  and  olde. 

backe  and  syde  goo  bare,  &c. 


2 1 6  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

they  that  do  dryncke  tyll  they  nodde  and  wyncke 

eyen  as  goode  fellowes  shulde  do 

they  shall  notte  mysse  to  have  the  blysse 

that  goode  ale  hathe  browghte  them  to 

and  all  poore  soules  that  skowre  blacke  boUes 

and  them  hathe  lusteiy  trowlde 

god  save  the  lives  of  them  and  ther  wyves 

whether  they  be  yong  or  olde. 

backe  and  syde  goo  bare,  Sec. 

Still's  version  was  introduced  into  the  very  stupid  play  of 
<*  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,"  in  1 566,  much  in  the  same  way  that 
"The  Last  Rose  of  Summer"  was  incorporated  into  "Martha," 
or  "My  Heart  and  Lute"  into  "Lodoiska."  The  worthy 
bishop  did  not  lose  promotion  by  writing  it,  as  did  the  Dublin 
dean  who  wrote  "  The  night  before  Larry  was  stretched,"  and 
missed  his  bishopric  in  consequence.  Here  is  the  song,  how- 
ever, which  is  no  doubt  ^miliar  to  most  of  our  readers:  it  goes 
to  a  well-known  rattling  tune. 

Here  is  the  modem  version : — 

Back  and  side  go  bare,  go  bare. 

Both  foot  and  hand  grow  cold ; 
But  belly,  God  send  thee  good  ale  enough. 

Whether  it  be  new  or  old. 
I  cannot  eat  but  little  meat, 

My  stomach  is  not  good; 
But  sure  I  think  that  I  can  drink 

With  him  that  wears  a  hood. 
Though  I  go  bare,  take  ye  no  care, 

I  am  nothing  a-cold; 

I  stuff  my  skin  so  full  within 
Of  jolly  good  ale  and  old. 

Back  and  side  go  bare,  go  bare. 

Both  foot  and  hand  grow  cold; 
But  belly,  God  send  thee  good  ale  enough, 
Whether  it  be  new  or  old. 


General  Songs.  217 

I  have  no  roast  but  a  nut-Srown  toast. 

And  a  crab  laid  in  the  fire  ; 
A  little  bread  shall  do  me  stead, 

Much  bread  I  not  desire. 
No  frost  nor  snow,  do  wind,  I  trow, 

Can  hurt  me  if  I  wold; 
I  am  so  wrapt,  and  throughly  lapt, 

Of  jolly  good  ale  and  old. 

Back  and  side  go  bare,  Sec. 

And  Tib  my  wife,  that  as  her  life 

Loveth  well  good  ale  to  seek. 
Full  oft  drinks  she,  till  ye  may  see 

The  tears  run  down  her  cheek ; 
Then  doth  she  trowl  to  me  the  bowl, 

Even  as  a  malt-worm  should, 
And  saith.  Sweetheart,  I  took  my  part 

Of  this  jolly  good  ale  and  old. 

Back  and  side  go  bare.  Sec. 

Now  let  them  drink  till  they  nod  and  wink. 

Even  as  good  fellows  should  do ; 
They  shall  not  miss  to  have  the  bliss 

Good  ale  doth  bring  men  to : 
And  all  poor  souls  that  have  scoured  bowls, 

Or  have  them  lustily  trowled, 
God  save  the  lives  of  them  and  their  wives, 

Whether  they  be  young  or  old. 

Back  and  side  go  bare.  Sec. 

The  following  version  of  the  better  known  portion  is  due  to 
Dr  Maginn: — 

Non  possum  multum  edere. 

Quia  stomacbus  est  nullus; 
Sed  volo  vel  monacho  bibere, 

Quanquam  sit  huic  cucullus. 


2 1 8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Et  quamTis  nadus  ambaloy 

De  frigore  dod  est  metus; 
Quia  semper  zytho  Tetulo 
Ventriculus  est  impletus. 
Sint  nuda  dorsum,  latera — pes,  manus  algeDS  sit, 
Dum  Tentri  yeteris  copia  zythi  novive  fit 

Assatum  nolo,  tostum  volo, 

Vel  pomum  igni  situm; 
Nil  pane  careo,  parvum  habeo 

Pro  pane  appetitum. 
Me  gelu,  nix,  vel  yentus  vix 

Afficerent  injuria ; 
Haec  spemo,  ni  adesset  mi 

Zythi  veteris  penuria. 
Sint  nuda,  &c. 

Et  uxor  Tybie,  quae  semper  sibi 

Vult  quacrere  zythum  bene, 
Ebibit  haec  persacpe,  nee 

Sistit,  dum  madeant  genx. 
Et  mihi  tum  dat  cantharum. 

Sic  mores  sunt  bibosi; 
Et  dicit  "Cor,  en!  impleor 

Zythi  dulcis  et  annosi " 
Sint  nuda,  6cc. 

Nunc  ebibant,  donee  nictant, 

Ut  decet  virum  bonum ; 
Felicitatis  habebunt  satis. 

Nam  zythi  hoc  est  donum. 
Et  omnes  hi,  qui  canthari 

Sunt  haustibus  l^tati, 
Atque  uxores  vel  juniores 

Vel  senes,  Diis  sint  grati. 
Sint  nuda,  5cc. 


General  Songs.  219 

Here  is  a  reprint  from  Mr  William  Chappell's  edition  of  the 
"Roxburghe  Ballads  "—«*  The  good  fellows'  best  beloved." 
According  to  Martin  Parker,  who  was  the  author  of  this  ballad,  the 
good  fellows'  best  beloved  was  strong  drink.  A  *<  good  fellow  " 
was,  in  other  words,  a  jovial  fellow— one  who,  while  under  the  too- 
frequent  influence  of  alcohol,  loved  all  the  world,  and  thought 
himself  a  prince,  or,  at  least,  a  millionaire.  Other  fellows,  under 
the  same  impulsive  power,  had  equally  superb  ideas  of  themselves, 
but  they  stood  so  much  upon  their  dignity  as  to  become  very 
quarrelsome  and  disagreeable,  although,  when  sober,  they  were  of 
peaceful  and  amiable  disposidons.  Such  opposite  effects  upon  the 
brain  might  have  been  observed,  not  unfrequently,  in  the  early 
part  of  the  present  century ;  but  drunkenness  has  now  ceaaed  to 
be  esteemed  a  desirable  accomplishment,  and,  except  among  the 
lowest  orders,  such  cases  are  now  comparatively  rare,  although 
not  extinct.  The  fashion  of  stimulating  the  brain  by  drinking  to 
excess  has  been  generally  resigned  in  favour  of  the  sedative  effects 
of  tobacco.  It  seems,  from  this  ballad,  that  'Mpse  he''  had 
become  a  slang  term  for  drinking.  It  was  perhaps  derived  from 
the  earlier  word  "  upsee."  **  It  has  been  said,''  said  Nares,  **  that 
op-zee,  in  Dutch,  means  'over  sea,'  which  comes  near  to  another 
English  phrase  for  drunkenness,  being  '  half  seas  over.'  But  op- 
zyn-fnes  means  <in  the  Dutch  Buhion,'  or  a  la  mode  de  Frue^  which 
perhaps  is  the  best  interpieution  of  the  phrase."  BeaunK>nt,  in 
his  ''  Beggar's  bush,"  leads  us  to  infer  that  upsee  he,  or  ipse  he, 
was  strong  English  ale. 

For  upse  freeze  he  drank  from  four  to  nine. 

So  as  each  sense  was  steeped  well  in  wine.  — Tbt  Shrift, 

Ipse  he  has  not  yet  been  noticed  in  our  glossaries  or  vocabularies. 
Stevens  in  one  of  his  inimitable  trials  says  the  plaintiff  was  not 
ipse  he,  he  was  tipsy  he.  The  name  of  the  tune  proves  it  to  have 
been  written  in  or  after  1633. 

The  play  of  "  Beggar's  Bush,"  in  which  the  Kene  is  laid  in 
Flanders,  shows  the  repute  which  English  ale  then  had  achieved 
abroad. 


220  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Scene  I.  —Enter  three  or  four  Boors. 

First  Boon  Come,  English  beer,  hostess,  English  beer  by  th' 
barrel. 

Second  Boor.  Stark  beer,  boy,  stout  and  strong  beer!  So  sit 
down,  lads,  and  drink  me  Upsey  Dutch !  frolick  and  fear  not. 

Prig.  Which  is  the  bowl  ? 

Higgini,  Which  roust  be  Upsey  English,  strong  lusty  English 
beer. 

Seaward  derives  the  word  "  Upsey  "  from  "  Op-zee,"  which  is 
Dutch  for  **  half-seas."  This  is  partly  in  accord,  for  a  Dutch- 
man's draught  wherever  it  be,  should  be  deep  as  the  rolling 
Zuyder  zee;  and  elsewhere  it  is  recorded  that  the  fault  of  the 
Dutch  is  in  asking  too  little  but  taking  too  much. 

The  Good  Fellowes'  Best  Beloved. 

To  the  tune  of  "  Blue  cap." 

Part  I. 

Now  if  you  will  know  what  that  should  bee, 

ril  tell  you  'tis  called  good  ipse  hee : 

HTis  that  which  some  people  do  love  in  some  measure, 

Some  for  their  profit,  and  some  for  their  pleasure. 

Among  the  nine  muses,  if  any  there  be 
That  unto  good  fellowship  friendly  adhere. 
Let  them  give  assistance,  this  time,  unto  me. 
For  I,  in  this  ditty,  intend  to  preferre 
A  thing  that's  beloved 

Of  rich  and  of  poore ; 
It  is  well  approved. 

There's  reason  therefore. 
My  due  approbation 
Shall  evermore  be 
In  the  commendation 
Of  good  ipse  hee. 


General  Songs.  221 

All  tiorts  and  conditionSy  the  highe  and  the  lowe. 

Although  not  alike,  yet  all,  in  some  measure, 
Unto  this,  my  theame,  their  aiFection  will  showe 
According  as  they  have  time,  stomach,  or  treasure. 
There's  few  live  so  purely 
But  they  now  and  then 
Will  sip  it  demurely^ 

Both  women  and  men ; 
Both  marryed  and  single 

Doe  joyntly  agree 
To  fuddle  their  noses 
With  good  ipse  he. 

Both  lawyers  and  clienu  that  come  to  the  terme, 
Howe*er  the  case  goes,  of  one  thing  I  am  sure ; 
Before  any  business  can  be  xVVd  firme. 

Good  liquor  and  money  the  meanes  must  procure. 
A  taveme  barre  often 

Makes  peace  ere  they  j>art; 
Canary  can  soften 

A  plaintiflle's  hard  heart. 
Their  glasses  they  sup  off, 
And  make  merry  glee; 
Such  power  hath  a  cup  of 
Good  good  ipse  he. 

The  taylor  comes  rubbing  his  hands  in  the  mom, 
And  calls  for  a  cup  of  the  butt  next  the  wall ; 
Be  it  of  the  grape,  or  of  John  Barleycome, 

Hee'll  drinke  out  his  breakfast,  his  dinner,  and  all. 
Hee  sayes  **  Call  and  spare  not ! 

lie  go  thorough  stitch; 
Hang  pinshing!  I  care  not 

For  being  too  rich: 
John  Black's  a  good  fellow. 

And  he  alowes  me 
To  make  myself  mellow 
With  good  ipse  hee.  * 


<c 


222  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  merry  shoo-maker,  when  'tis  a  hard  frost, 
Sayes  he  cannot  work,  for  his  ware  it  is  6x>zen. 
Fayth!  what  shall  we  doe?  let  us  goe  to  our  host 
And  makes  ourselves  merry  with  each  a  half-dozen." 
With  this  resolution 

They  purpose  to  thrive; 
But,  ere  the  conclusion. 

That  number  proves  five. 
They  sbg  merry  catches; 
Few  tradesmen  there  be 
Are  shoo-makers'  matches 
At  good  ipse  hee. 


Part  II. 

The  mason  and  bricklayer  are  somer  birds; 

The  winter  to  them  is  a  time  of  vacation ; 
They  and  their  labourers  live  on  their  words, 

Unless  (like  the  ant)  they  have  made  preparation. 
And  yet,  though  they  have  not, 

They  nevertheless  thinke 
^Tush!  what  if  we  save  not? 

Must  we  have  no  drinke? 
Wee'll  pawn  tray  and  shovle. 

And  more,  if  neede  be. 
Our  noses  to  fuddle 
With  good  ipse  hee." 

Grim  Vulcan,  the  bbcksmith,  is  chief  of  all  trades; 

Then  think  you  that  he'l  be,  in  drinking,  inferior? 
No!  truly:  when  hee's  with  his  merry  comrades 

Heell  laugh  and  sing  ditties;  you  never  heard  merrier. 
He  cryes  out  [that]  bee's  hot, 

And  still  this  is  his  note, 
**  Come  gi's  t'other  pot, 

HeerVs  a  sparke  in  my  throate." 


General  Songs,  223 

Hee  calls  and  he  payes. 

There's  no  man  more  finee; 
He  seldom  long  stayes 

From  good  ipse  hee. 


The  tanner,  whene'er  he  comes  to  Leaden-hall, 

After  his  journey,  will  make  himselfe  merry; 

He  wil  have  good  liquor,  and  welcome  with  all, 

The  Bui  for  good  beere,  and  the  Nagg's  head  for  sherry. 
No  bargain  shall  stand 

But  what  liquor  doth  seale; 
Quite  throughout  the  land 

Thus  most  tradesmen  doe  deale: 
In  tarem  or  alehouse 

Most  matches  made  be; 
The  first  word's  «« Where  shall  us 
Find  good  ipse  hee." 

The  London  shopkeepers  that  cry  '*  What  d'ye  lack?" 
When  they  have  sold  wares,  and  money  have  taken, 
They'l  give  [to]  their  chapman  a  pint  o'  th'  best  sacke, 
The  price  of  it  out  of  their  money  abating. 
The  proverb  observing — 

"  They  that  money  take 
Must  pay  all  the  charges  " — 

This  baigain  they  make: 
Thus  liquor  makes  all  men 

Most  friendly  agree. 
Both  lowe  men  and  tall  men 
Love  good  ipse  hee. 

The  honest  plain  husbandman,  when  that  he  goes 
To  fayre  or  to  market  with  come  or  with  cattle; 

When  he  hath  dispatcht,  he  remembers  his  nose. 
How  that  must  be  arm'd  as  it  were  to  a  battle. 


224  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

TheD,  like  to  a  gallant. 

To  drinking  he  falls; 
Yet,  though  he's  pot-valiant, 

He  payes  what  he  calls. 
He  Kornes  reputation 

Id  that  bas^  degree; 
His  chiefe  recreation 

Is  good  ipse  hee. 

The  generous  serving-men,  meeting  each  other — 

As  well  as  their  masters — sometimes  wil  be  merry ; 
He  that's  a  good  fellow  is  lov'd  like  a  brother. 
With  making  him  welcom  they  never  are  weary. 
He  that  is  a  clowne 

As  a  clowne  he  may  goe; 
Quite  throughout  the  towne 

Such  a  fellow  they'll  know ; 
But  those  that  are  right 

Will  in  union  agree 
By  mom  or  by  night 
At  good  ipse  hee. 

In  briefe,  this  it  is  which  both  women  and  men 

So  deerely  afiect  that,  before  they  will  lack  it, 
Theyll  pawne  all  they  have:  nay,  and  so,  now  and  then, 
(>own,  kirtle,  or  waistcoate,  cloak,  breeches,  and  jacket. 
Although  they  want  victuall. 

If  they  can  get  chinke, 
Bee't  never  so  little, 

'Tis  most  on't  for  drinke. 
The  rich  and  the  begger, 
The  bond  and  the  free. 
Will  oftentimes  swagger 
At  good  ipse  hee. 

The  dramatists  make  frequent  mention  of  beer.     Fletcher's 
(who  died  of  the  plague  in   1625)  plays  are  full  of  allusions  to 


General  Songs.  225 

ale  and  beer.  In  "  Philattcr,*'  Pharamondy  the  captive  prince,  is 
reviled  by  a  captain  in  good  set  terms,  worthy  of  a  Billingsgate 
fish  hg: — 

**  Nay,  my  beyond-sea  sir,  we  will  proclaim  you.  You  would 
be  king !  thou  tender  heir-apparent  to  a  church  ale,"  dtc,  &c. 

Then  in  "  The  Scornful  Lady,"  act  4,  Kene  2 : — 

**  Ale  is  their  eating  and  their  drinking  solely." 

And,  again,  in  act  2; — 

"  Toung  LoveUu,  What  think  you,  gentlemen,  by  all  this 
revenue  in  drink  ? 

Caftain,  I  am  all  for  drink. 

Traveller,  I  am  dry  till  it  be  so. 

Poet.  He  that  will  nor  cry  <  Amen '  to  this,  let  him  live 
sober,  seem  wise,  and  die  o'  th'  quorum." 

In  "  Wit  without  Money,"  when  the  tenants  reproach  Valen- 
tine, they  say:  — 

*'  His  father  kept  good  meat,  good  fellows.  Who  found  you 
horses  and  perpetual  pots  of  beer  ? " 

Then  we  have  a  sketch  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern: — 

"  What  things  have  we  seen  done  at  the  Mermaid. 
Draw  me  a  map  of  the  Mermaid." 

And  further  on  this  peculiar  phrase  occurs: — 

*'  He  was  a  fool  before,  brought  up  amongst 
The  mist  of  small  brewhouses." 


Marlowe. 

"  Benvolio,  .  .  .  They  say,  if  a  man  be  drunk  over  night,  the 
devil  cannot  hurt  him  in  the  morning." — Faustut^  ac  il  scene  4. 


226  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

"  Carter,  Conie,  my  mabtcrs,  I'Jl  bring  you  to  the  best  beer  in 
Euro{>e/' — Ibirl,^  act  iv.  scene  6, 

^  Rohitt.  Nay,  sir,  we  will  be  welcome  for  our  money,  and  wc 
will  pay  for  what  we  take.  What  ho!  give*8  half-a-dozen  of 
beer  here,  and  be  hanged. 

Fauilus.  Nay,  hark  you,  can  you  tell  me  where  you  are? 

Carter.  Aye,  marry,  can  I,  we  are  under  heaven. 

Sifvani,  Aye;  but,  Sir  Saucebox,  know  you  in  what  place? 

Hone^Cotner.  Aye,  aye,  the  house  is  good  enough  to  drink 
in.  Zounds!  fill  us  some  beer,  or  we'll  break  all  the  barrels  in 
the  house,  and  dash  out  all  your  brains  with  the  bottles. 

Fauttw.  Be  not  so  furious;  come,  you  shall  ha^  beer. 
My  lord,  beseech  you  give  me  leave  awhile, 
I'll  gage  my  credit,  'twill  content  your  grace. 

Duhe.  With  all  my  heart,  kind  Doctor,  please  thyself, 
Our  servants  and  our  court's  at  thy  command. 

Fauitus,  I  humbly  thank  your  grace,  then  fetch  some  beer. 

Norit'Courier.  Ah,  marry!  tliere  spake  a  doctor,  indeed !  and 
'faith,  I'll  drink  a  health  to  thy  wooden  leg  for  that  word." 


Shakespeare. 

"  For  God '6  Scikc  a  pot  of  small  ale." 

''  And  once  again  a  pot  o'  the  smallest  ale." 

''  prince  Hinry.  Doth  it  hot  show  vilely  in  me  to  desire  small 

beer? 

jPocfix.  Why,  a  prince  should  not  be  so  loosely  studied  as  to 
remember  so  weak  a  composition. 

Prince.  Belike,  then,  my  appetite  was  not  princely  got.  I  do 
ow  remember  the  poor  creature,  small  beer.* 

«*  Speed.  Come  on,  you  mad-cap,  I'll  to  the  alehouse  with  you 
presently,  where,  for  one  shot  of  fivepence  thou  shah  have  iiv^ 
thousand  welcomes. 


General  Songs.  2iy 

Speed.  Item,  She  brews  good  ale, 

Launce,  And  therefore  comes  the  proverb.  Blessing  of  your 
hearty  you  brew  good  ale. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Speed,   Item,  She  will  often  praise  her  liquor, 

Launce,  If  her  liquor  be  good,  she  shall;  if  she  will  not,  I 
will,  for  good  things  should  be  praised.** 

^  Fal staff,  ,  .  .  An*  I  have  not  forgotten  what  the  inside 
of  a  church  is  made  of.     I  am  a  pepper-corn,  a  brewer*s  horse.*' 

The  commentators  thus  enlarge  upon  this  passage  : — 

** a  brewer's  horse.]     I  suppose  a  brewer's  horse  was  apt 

to  be  lean  with  hard  work.*' — Johnson, 

**  A  brewer's  horse  does  not,  perhaps,  mean  a  dray^horse^  but 
the  cross-beam  on  which  beer-barrels  are  carried  into  cellars,  &c. 
The  allusion  may  be  to  the  taper  form  of  this  machine. 

"  A  brewer's  horse  is,  however,  mentioned  in  Artippus^  or  The 
Jovial  Philosopher^  1630:  —•To  think  Helicon  a  barrel  of  beer, 
is  as  great  a  sin  as  to  call  Pegasus  a  brewers  horse* ** — Steeyens, 

'•  The  commentators  seem  not  to  be  aware,  that,  in  assertions  of 
this  sort,  F  distaff  does  not  mean  any  similitude  to  his  own 
condition,  but  on  the  contrary  some  dissimilitude.  He  says  here, 
I  am  a  pepper^torn^  a  brewer's  horse;  just  as  in  act  ii.,  scene  4, 
he  asserts  the  truth  of  several  parts  of  his  narrative,  on  pain  of 
being  considered  as  a  rogue —a  Jew — an  Ebrew  Jew — a  bunch  of 
raddish — a  horse,** — Tyrwitt. 

Brewers*  hoi*ses  of  the  present  day  are  certainly  not  like  to  the 
lean  kine,  but  are  Falstaffian  in  their  .own  proportions. 

In  R.  Dodsley's  play,  "  The  King  and  the  Miller  of  Mans^ 
field,'*  we  are  reminded  that  the  Clerk  of  Copmanhurst  was  not 
the  only  one  that  entertained  a  king  unawares.  The  miller  of 
Mansfield  was  equally — nay,  nwre — hospitable  to  Henry  II.,  as 
there  was  no  compulsion  in  the  latter  case.  When  the  king 
arrived  at  the  mill,  the  host  gave  his  wife  instructions: — 

**  Miller,  Gome,  Madge,  see  what  thou  canst  get  for  supper. 
Kill  a  couple  of  the  best  fowls;  and  go  you,  Kace,  and  draw  » 

r  2 


228  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

pitcher  of  ale.     We  are  femous,  nr,  at  Mansfield  for  good  ale, 
and  for  honest  fellows  that  know  how  to  drink  it. 

King.  Good  ale  will  be  acceptable,  for  I  am  very  dry. 

Scene  VI.— "-At  supper. 

Miller.  Come,  sir,  you  must  mend  a  bad  supper  with  a  glass 
of  good  ale.     Here's  King  Harry's  health ! 
King.  With  all  my  heart." 

This  shows  that  Nottingham  turned  out  right  royal  tipple. 

Bloomfield,  Ho%lev>ood  Hall^  act  iii.,  scene  i. 

"  Spokeum.  What,  thrte  women  kept  a  secret !  why,  this  is  more 
surprising  still!  it  is  more  wonderful  than  picking  hops  by 
machinery. 

Judith.  When  you  have  a  little  drop  of  drink  in  your  head 
(and  a  very  little  will  do  it),  you  are  apt  to  blat  out  everything 
that  you  know. 

Spoheum,  Humph!  mayhap  you  will  say  that  I  have  drink  in 
my  head  now;  but  1  declare  that  I  have  had  but  two  horns  of 
ale  since  I  came  into  the  house  (it  was  plaguey  strong  though); 
and  I  don't  care  what  you  say — go  on — I  tell  you  I  don't  care." 

The  annexed  extract  is  from  a  poem  written  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  II.,  descriptive  of  the  manners  of  the  times: — 

«*  Hafter  mete  the  haf  a  pyne 

That  greveth  him  ful  sore: 
He  will  drawe  at  a  drawzt 

A  gode  quart  othermore 
Of  gode  ale  and  strong 

Wei  i-brewen  of  the  beste, 
And  sone  thereafter  he  wol  fond 

For  to  each  reste." 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  sameness  in  the  Roxburgh  ballads, 
especially  in  the  beer  and  malt  songs,  in  the  way  that  every  then 
known  trade  is  taken  in  hand,  seriatim^  by  mault  and  ale,  each  one 
of  whom   sufiers   somewhat  in   the  encounter.     <<The   Good 


General  Songs.  2  29 

Fellows'  Resoludony"  taken  from  the  above-Damed  source,  has 
this  defect,  though  it  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  series: — 


Good  Ale  for  my  Money. 

Tiff  Good  Fellows  resolution  of  strong  ale^ 
Thai  cures  his  nose  from  looting  paU. 

To  the  tune  of  **  The  Country  Lasse." 

Be  merry,  my  Friends,  and  list  a  while 

Unto  a  merry  jest; 
It  may  from  you  produce  a  smile,    . 

When  you  heare  it  exprest, — 
Of  a  young  man  lately  married, 

Which  was  a  boone  good  fellow, 
This  song  in's  head  he  alwaies  carried 
When  drink  had  made  him  mellow: 

I  cannot  go  home,  nor  I  will  not  go  home, 

It's  long  of  the  oyle  of  Barley; 
He  tarry  all  night  for  my  delight. 
And  go  home  in  the  morning  early. 

No  Tapster  stout,  or  Vintner  tine. 

Quoth  he,  shall  ever  get 
One  groat  out  of  this  purse  of  mine, 

To  pay  his  master's  debt: 
Why  should  I  deal  with  starking  Rookes, 

That  sceke  poor  gulls  to  cozen, 
To  give  twelve  pence  for  a  quart  of  wine  ? 

Of  ale  'twill  buy  a  dozen. 

'Twill  make  me  sing,  I  cannot,  &c. 

The  old  renowned  I-pocrist 

And  Rapsie  doth  excell ; 
But  never  my  wine  could  yet 

My  honour  please  to  swell. 


230  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  Rhenish  wine  or  Muscadine, 
Sweet  Malmsie  is  too  fulsome; 

No  give  me  a  cup  of  Barlie  broth, 
For  that  is  very  wholesome. 

Twill  make  me  sing,  I  cannot,  &c. 


Hot  waters  are  to  me  as  death, 

And  soone  the  head  o'ertumeth, 
And  nectar  hath  so  strong  a  breath ; 

Canary,  when  it  bumeth, 
It  cures  no  paine,  but  breaks  the  braine, 

And  raps  out  oaths  and  curses, 
And  makes  men  part  with  heavie  heart, 

But  light  it  makes  their  purses. 
I  cannot  go  home,  &c. 


Some  say  Matheglin  beares  the  name 

With  Perry  and  sweet  Sider ; 
'Twill  bring  the  body  out  of  frame, 

And  reach  the  belly  wider; 
Which  to  prevent,  I  am  content 

With  ale  that's  good  and  nappie, 
And  when  thereof  I  have  enough, 

I  thinke  my  selfe  most  happy. 
I  cannot  go  home,  &c. 


All  sorts  of  men,  when  they  do  meet, 

Both  trade  and  occupation, 
With  curtesie  each  other  greet. 

And  kinde  humiliatiofl; 
A  good  coale  fire  is  their  desire, 

Whereby  to  sit  and  parly; 
They'll  drinke  their  ale,  and  tell  a  tale. 

And  go  home  in  the  morning  early.. 
I  cannot  go  home,  &c. 


General  Songs.  2  3 1 

The  Second  Party  to  the  same  tune. 

Here,  honest  John,  to  thee  He  drinke. 

And  80  to  Will  and  Thomas; 
None  of  the  company,  I  thtnke, 
Will  this  night  part  from  us; 
While  we  are  here,  we'll  joyne  for  beere, 

Like  lively  lads  together ! 
We  ha?e  a  house  o?er  our  heads, — 
A  fig  for  ranie  weather. 

I  cannot  go  home,  nor  I  will  not  go  home. 

Its  long  of  the  oyle  of  Barley; 
I  stay  all  night  for  my  delight, 

And  go  home  in  the  rooming  early. 

Here's  Smugg  the  smith,  and  Ned  the  cook. 

And  Frank,  the  fine  felt  maker. 
Here's  Ste?en  with  his  silver  hooke, 

And  Wat  the  lustie  baker; 
Here's  Harry  and  Dick,  with  Greg  and  Nicke; 

Here's  Timothy,  the  tailor; 
Here's  honest  Kit,  nere  spoke  of  yet, 

And  George,  the  joviall  saylcr. 
That  cannot  go  home,  &c. 

We'll  sit  and  bouse,  and  merrily  chat. 

And  freely  we  will  joyne; 
For  care  neere  paid  a  pound  of  debt, 

Nor  shall  pay  none  of  mine; 
Here  is  but  eighteenpcnce  to  pay, 

Since  every  man  is  willing ; 
Bring  drinke  with  all  the  speed  you  may 

We'll  make  it  up  two  shillings. 
We  cannot,  &c. 

Let  Father  frowne  and  Mother  chide, 

And  Uncle  seeke  to  find  us; 
Here  is  good  lap,  here  will  we  hide, 

Weele  leave  no  drinke  behtnde  us. 


32  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

A  proverb  old  I  have  heard  told 

By  my  deere  dad  and  grandsire, 
*^  He  was  hanged  that  left  his  drinke  behinde," 

Therefore  this  is  our  answer. 
We  cannot,  &c. 

JameS)  the  Joyner,  he  hath  paid. 

And  Anthony  the  Gloverj 
Our  Hostease  hath  a  pretty  maid, 

I  cannot  chuse  but  love  her; 
Her  pot  she'll  fill  with  right  good  will : — 

Here's  ale  as  browne  as  a  berry, 
Twill  make  an  old  woman  dance  for  joy, 

And  an  old  man's  heart  full  merry. 
I  cannot,  &c. 

Twill  make  a  Souldier  domineere. 

And  bravely  draw  his  rapier; 
Such  vertue  doth  remaine  in  beere, 

Twill  make  a  cripple  caper: 
Women  with  men  will  now  and  then, 

Sit  round  and  drinke  a  little; 
Tom  Tinker's  wife,  on  Friday  night. 

For  drinke  did  pawne  her  kettle, 
Sht  could  not  §omi  bome^  nor  would  not  come  home^ 

Her  belly  begun  to  nimble; 
She  had  no  power  to  go  nor  stand, 

BHt  about  the  street  did  stumble. 

Thus  to  conclude  my  verses  rude. 

Would  some  good  fellowes  here, 
Would  joyne  together  pence  a  peece, 

To  buy  the  singer  bcere; 
I  trust  none  of  this  company. 

Will  be  herewith  offended; 
Therefore,  call  for  your  jugs  a  peece, 

And  drink  to  him  that  pen'd  it. 


A 


General  Songs,  233 

The  proverb)  **  The  man  who  refused  his  liquor  was  hanged/' 
arose  thus.  It  was  formerly  the  custom  to  present  a  bowl  of  ale  to 
malefactors  on  their  way  to  execution.  The  county  of  YorK,  which 
strongly  adheres  to  its  ancient  usages,  was  the  last  place  where 
this  custom  prevailed.  A  saddler  of  Bawtry  lost  his  life  in  con* 
sequence  of  declining  the  refreshment,  as,  had  he  stopped  as  usual, 
his  reprieve,  which  was  actually  on  the  road,  would  have  arrived 
in  time  enough  to  have  saved  him.  Hence  arose  the  saying  that 
the  saddler  of  Bawtry  was  hanged  for  leaving  his  ale. 

We  have  met  many  Yorkshiremen  in  our  time,  but  we  certainly 
never  met  with  one  who  refused  his  beloved  stingo,  and  the 
general  verdict  ujX)n  the  miserable  saddler  was  "sarved  him 
right" 

A  converse  to  this  story  is  found  in  the  following.  A 
Scotch  soldier  was  condemned  to  be  shot,  and  the  firing 
party  told  off,  when  the  provost  asked  him  which  psalm  he  would 
have  read.  The  condemned  had  the  right  of  choice,  and  the 
prisoner  chose  the  1 1  yth.  The  Provost  did  not  like  the  choice, 
but  he  had  to  comply,  and  just  as  he  came  to  the  last  verse  a 
reprieve  arrived. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  beer  attained  its  pre-eminence 
without  a  struggle.  Here  is  a  quatrain  from  Heylin's  "  Cosmo- 
graphie,"  1652 — an  invective  more  forcible  than  elegant; — 

Nescio  quid  monstrum  Stygiz  conforme  paludi, 
Cervisiam  plerique  vocant,  nil  spissius  ilia, 
Dum  bibitur,  nil  clarius  est  dum  mingitur,  ergo 
Constat  quod  niultas  fxces  in  ventre  relinquit. 

In  English  thus: — 

Of  this  strange  drink,  so  like  the  Stygian  lake. 
Which  men  call  ale,  I  know  not  what  to  make; 
Men  drink  it  thick  and  void  it  very  thin, 
Thorefore  much  dregs  must  needs  remnin  within. 


rty 


234  Jf^  Praise  of  Ale. 

Thomas  Randall's  high  and  mighty  commendation  of  a  pot  of 
ale  is  not  so  well  known  in  its  entirety  as  it  deserves  to  be,  though 
from  time  to  time  a  few  verses  have  been  "  adapted  **  and  issued 
as  an  "original"  song.  In  the  "Antidote  to  Melancholy," 
1 66 1,  the  verses  are  conveyed  in  this  manner.  Southey,  in  his 
commonplace  book,  quotes  these  three  verses  as  a  complete  song, 
and  does  not  ap])ear  to  have  known  the  original. 

High  and  Mightie  Commendation  of  the  Vertue  of  a 

Pot  of  Good  Ale. 

Full   of  wit  without  offence,  of  mirth  without  obscenitie,  of 
pleasure  without  scurrilitie,  of  good  content  without  distaste. 

Written  by  Thomas  Randall,*  mdczlii. 

Not  drunken  nor  sober  (but  neighbour  to  both), 

I  met  with  a  friend  in  Aletherry  vale; 
He  saw  by  my  face  that  I  was  in  the  case 

To  speak  no  great  harm  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

And  as  we  did  meet  and  friendly  did  greete. 
He  put  me  in  mind  of  the  name  of  the  dale; 

That  for  Alesherry^i  sake,  some  paines  I  would  take. 
And  not  burie  the  praise  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  more  to  procure  me,  then  did  he  adjure  me 
(If  the  ale  I  drank  last  were  nappie  and  stale) 

To  doe  it  its  right,  and  stir  up  my  spight, 
And  fale  to  commend  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

Quoth  I,  to  commend  I  dare  not  begin, 

Lest  therein  my  cunning  might  hapj)en  to  faile, 

For  many  there  be  that  count  it  a  sin 

But  once  to  look  towards  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

Yet  I  care  not  a  pin,  for  I  see  no  sin. 

Nor  any  else  that  my  courage  may  quaile; 
For  this  I  doe  find,  being  taken  in  kind, 

Much  vertue  there  is  in  a  pot  of  good  ale. 


•  **  He  oever  could  kwk  at  a  pot  of  Beer 
But  over  went  the  •how.*' 


General  Songs.  235 

When  heavineste  the  mind  doth  oppresse. 
And  sorrow  and  griefe  the  heart  doth  assaile, 

No  remedy  quicker,  but  take  up  your  liquor. 
And  wash  away  care  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  priest  and  the  dark,  whose  sight  waxeth  dark, 
And  the  print  of  the  letter  doth  seeme  too  small, 

They  will  con  every  letter,  and  read  service  better. 
If  they  glaze  but  their  eyes  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  poet  divine,  that  cannot  reach  wine. 
Because  that  his  money  doth  oftentimes  faile. 

Will  hit  on  the  veine,  and  reach  the  high  straine, 
If  he  be  but  inspir'd  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

All  writers  of  ballads,  for  such  whose  mishap 

From  Newgate  up  Holboumc  to  Tybume  doe  saile, 

Shall  have  sudden  expression  of  alle  their  confession. 
If  the  muse  be  but  dew*d  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  prisoner  that  is  enclos'd  in  the  grate, 
.  Will  shake  off  remembrance  of  bondage  and  iaile, 
Of  hunger  and  cold,  of  fetters  or  fate, 

If  he  pickle  himself  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  salamander  blacksmith  that  lives  by  the  fire. 
Whilst  his  bellowes  are  puffing  a  blustering  gale, 

Will  shake  off  his  full  kan,  and  sweare  each  true  vulcan 
Will  hazard  his  witts  for  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  wooer  that  feareth  his  suit  to  begin, 

And  blushes  and  simpers  and  often  looks  pale, 

Though  he  miss  in  his  speech  and  his*  heart  were  at  his  breech, 
If  he  liquor  his  tongue  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  widdow,  that  buried  her  husband  of  late, 
Will  soon  have  forgotten  to  weep  and  to  waile, 

And  think  every  day  twaine,  till  she  marry  againe. 
If  she  read  the  contents  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 


236  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

The  plowman  and  carter  that  toyles  all  the  day. 
And  tires  himself  quite  at  the  plough  taile, 

Will  speak  no  lesse  things  than  of  queens  and  of  kings, 
If  he  do  but  make  bold  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

And  indeed  it  will  make  a  roan  suddenly  wise, 
Erewhile  was  scarce  abel  to  tell  a  right  tale, 

It  will  open  his  jaw,  he  will  tell  you  the  law. 
And  straight  be  a  bencher  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

I  doe  further  alledge  it  is  fortitude's  edge, 
For  a  very  coward  that  shrinks  like  a  snaile 

Will  sweare  and  will  swagger,  and  out  goes  his  dagger, 
If  he  be  but  weU  arm*d  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  naked  man  taketh  no  care  for  a  coat. 

Nor  on  the  cold  weather  will  once  turne  his  taile, 

AH  the  way  as  he  goes  cut  the  wind  vath  his  nose, 
If  he  be  but  well  lin'd  with  a  ))0t  of  good  ale. 

The  hungrie  man  seldom  can  mind  his  meat 

(Though  his  stomack  could  brook  a  tenpenny  nail). 

He  quite  forgets  hunger,  thinks  of  it  no  longer, 
If  his  bellie  be  60ws*d  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  reaper,  the  mower,  the  thresher,  the  sower. 

The  one  with  his  scithe,  and  the  other  with  his  flaile. 

Pull  'em  out  by  the  pole  on  the  peril  of  my  sole 
They  will  hold  up  their  caps  at  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  beggar,  whose  portion  is  alwayes  his  prayer, 

Not  having  a  tatter  to  hang  at  his  taile, 
Is  as  rich  in  his  rags  as  a  churle  with  his  bags, 

If  he  be  but  enriched  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

It  puts  his  povertie  out  of  his  mind. 

Forgetting  his  browne  bread,  his  wallet,  his  maile. 
He  walks  in  the  house  like  a  six-footed  lowse. 

If  he  be  but  well  drench 'd  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 


General  Songs.  237 

The  souldier,  the  saylor,  the  true  man,  the  taylor, 
Th«  lawyer  that  sells  words  by  weight  and  by  tale, 

Take  them  all  as  they  are,  for  the  war  or  the  bar. 
They  all  will  approve  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  church  and  religion  to  love  it  have  cause 
(Or  else  our  forefathers  their  wisdoms  did  faile). 

For  at  every  mile,  close  at  the  church  stile, 
A  house  is  ordain'd  for  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

And  physick  will  favour  ale  (as  it  is  bound), 
And  stand  against  beere  both  tooth  and  naile, 

They  cend  up  and  downe,  all  over  the  towne, 
To  get  for  their  patients  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

Your  ale-berries,  cawdles,  and  possett^  each  one. 

And  sullabubs  made  at  the  milking  pale, 
Although  there  be  many,  beere  comes  not  in  any. 

But  all  are  compos'd  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

And  in  very  deed,  the  hop's  but  a  weed 

Brought  o'er  against  law,  and  here  set  to  sale  ; 

He  that  first  brought  the  hop  had  reward  with  a  rope, 
And  found  that  his  beere  was  more  bitter  than  ale. 

The  ancient  tales  that  my  grannam  hath  told 
Of  the  mirth  she  hath  had  in  parlour  and  hall. 

How  in  Christmas  time  they  would  dance,  sing,  and  raive, 
As  if  they  were  mad,  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

Beer  is  a  stranger,  a  Dutch  vpstart  come. 
Whose  credit  with  us  sometimes  is  but  small ; 

But  in  the  records  of  the  empire  of  Rome 

The  olde  Catholicke  drink  is  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

To  the  praise  of  Gamlnnius^  the  old  British  king. 

Who  devis'd  for  the  nation  (by  the  Welch-men's  tale), 

Seventeene  hundred  yeares  before  Christ  did  spring. 
The  happie  invention  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 


238  fn  Praise  of  Ale, 

But  he  was  a  Pagan,  aod  ale  theo  was  rife; 

But  after  Christ  came  and  bade  us  aU  baiky 
Saint  Tavie  was  neffer  irink  peere  In  lier  Tife^ 

Put  awle  caUywhibUn  and  excellent  ale. 

All  religions  and  nations,  their  humours  and  fashions, 
R  ch  or  poore,  knave  or  whoore,  dwarBsh  or  tall, 

Sheep  or  shrew.  Fie  avow,  well  I  know  all  will  bow. 
If  they  be  but  well  steep'd  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

O,  ale  ab  alemlo,  thou  liquor  of  life, 

I  wish  that  my  mouth  were  as  big  as  a  whale; 

But  then  'twere  too  little  to  reach  thy  least  title 
That  belongs  to  the  praise  of  a  pot  of  good  ale.* 

Thus  many  a  vertue  to  you  I  have  showed, 

And  not  any  vice  in  all  this  long  tale; 
But  after  the  pot  there  cometh  a  shot, 

And  that  is  the  blot  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

Well  said,  my  friend,  that  blot  I  will  b^are. 

You  have  done  very  well,  it  is  time  to  strike  salle ; 

Wee*l  have  six  pots  more,  though  we  dye  on  the  score. 
To  make  all  this  good  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

I  took  the  foregoing  lines  from  one  of  the  King's  Pamphlets 
in  the  British  Museum,  but  Mr  Ebsworth  gives  another  version, 
containing  the  following  additional  stanzas : — 

The  old  Parish  Vicar,  when  he's  in  his  liquor. 

Will  merrily  at  his  parishioners  rail : 
Come,  pay  all  your  tithes,  or  I'll  kiss  all  your  wives, 

When  once  he  shakes  hands  with  a  tankard  of  ale. 


*  Parallel  Passage. 
1  wUh  1  was  a  brewer's  hoise 

For  twelve  months  in  the  year, 
I*d  put  my  head  where  my  tail  should  l-e 

And  suck  up  all  tlie  beer. 


General  Songs.  239 

There's  the  blacksmith,  by  trade  a  jolly  busk  blade, 
Cries  "  fill  up  the  bumper,  dear  host,  from  the  pail," 

So  cheerful  he*ll  sing,  and  make  the  house  ring. 
When  once  he  shakes  hands  with  a  tankard  of  ale. 

There's  the  tinker,  ye  ken,  cries  old  kettles  to  mend, 
With  his  budget  and  hammer  to  drive  in  the  nail. 

Will  spend  a  whole  crown,  at  one  sitting  down, 
When  once  he  shakes  hands  with  a  tankard  of  ale. 

There's  the  mason,  brave  John,  the  carver  of  stone, 
The  master's  great  secrets  he'll  never  reveal ; 

Yet  how  merry  is  he,  with  his  lass  on  his  knee, 
When  once  he  shakes  hands  with  a  tankard  of  ale. 

Ye  maids  who  feel  shame,  pray  do  me  no  blame, 
Though  your  private  ongoings  in  public  I  tell ; 

Your  Bridget  or  Nell  to  kiss  will  not  fail. 

When  once  they  shake  hands  with  a  tankard  of  ale. 

There's  some  jolly  wives  love  drink  as  their  lives. 

Dear  neighbours,  but  mind  the  sad  thread  of  my  talc; 

Their  husbands  they'll  scorn,  as  sure  as  they  were  born, 
If  once  they  shake  hands  with  a  tankard  of  ale. 

From  wrangling  and  jangling,  and  ev*ry  such  strife, 

Or  anything  else  that  may  happen  to  fall, 
From  words  come  to  blows,  and  sharp  bloody  nose. 

But  friends  again  over  a  tankard  of  ale. 

For  Balbds  Elderton  never  had  a  peer, 

How  went  his  wits  in  them  with  how  merry  a  gale. 

And  with  all  the  sails  up,  had  he  been  at  the  cup, 
And  washed  his  beard  with  a  cup  of  good  ale. 

According  to  the  annexed  doggrel  lines,  Aylesbury  must  have 
been  long  famous  for  its  brewings: — 

Ale  drinkers  should  to  Malta  near, 
Whose  thirst  naught  can  controul; 
Publicans  to  Aylesbury, 
And  take  their  heavy  wet. 


240  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Here  is  a  good  song  in  praise  of  ale,  which  is  taken  from 
"Wit  and  Drollery,"  1656  edition: — 

Oy  Give  me  Stout  Brown  Ale. 

When  the  chill  Sirocco  blows. 

And  winter  tells  a  heavy  tale ; 
When  pies,  and  dows,  and  rooks,  and  crows. 
Do  sit  and  curse  the  frost  and  snows; 
Then  give  me  ale, 
Old  ale, 
Stout  brown, 
Nut  brown, 
O,  give  me  stout  brown  ale. 

Ale  in  a  Saxon  runken  then, 

Such  as  will  make  grimalkin  prate, 
Bidft  valour  burgeon  in  tall  men, 
Quickens  the  poet's  wit  and  pen, 
Despises  fate — 
Old  brown, 
Stout  brown. 
Nut  brown, 
O,  give  me  stout  brown  ale. 

Ale  that  the  ploughman's  heart  up  keeps, 

And  equals  it  to  tyrants'  thrones. 
That  wipes  the  eye  that  over  weeps. 
And  lulls  in  sweet  and  dainty  sleeps 
Th*  o'erwearied  bones — 
Old  brown, 
Stout  brown. 
Nut  brown, 
O,  give  me  nut-brown  ale. 

Grandchild  of  Ceres,  Barlie*s  daughter, 
Wine's  emulous  neighbour — if  but  stale ; 

Ennobling  all  the  nymphs  of  water. 

And  6Uing  each  man's  heart  with  laughter. 


General  Songs.  24 « 

O,  give  mc  idc — 

Old  brown, 

Stout  brown, 

Nut  brown, 
O,  give  mc  stout  brown  ale. 

A  variation  of  the  above  appeared  in  the  European  Magazine^ 
December  1814,  with  a  note  to  the  effect  that  the  song  was 
written  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II. 


Give  Me  Ale.     No.  II. 

When  the  chill  north-east  wind  blows, 

And  winter  tells  a  heavy  tale, 
When  pyes  and  dawes,  and  doobes  and  crowes, 
Do  sit  and  curse  the  frostes  and  snowes, 
Then  give  mc  Ale. 

Alb,  that  the  absent  battle  fights, 

And  forms  the  march  o'  the  Swedish  drum. 
Disputes  the  prince's  laws  and  rights, 
What's  gone  and  past  tells  mortal  wights, 
And  what's  to  come. 

Ale,  that  the  plowman's  heart  upleepes. 
And  equails  it  to  Tyrants'  thrones. 

That  wipes  the  eye  that  ever  weepes. 
And  lulls  in  soft  and  easie  sleepes 
The  tyred  bones. 

Ale,  that  securely  clymes  the  topps 
Of  cedars  tall,  and  lofty  towers, 
When  giddy  grapes  and  creeping  hoppv 
Are  holden  up  with  poles  and  propps. 
For  lack  of  powers. 


242  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

When  the  SqyteotrioD  seas  are  froze 

By  Boreas  his  bidng  gale, 
To  keep  unpinch'd  the  Russian's  nose, 
And  save  unrot  the  Vandal's  toes, 
Oh !  give  them  Ale. 


Grandchild  to  Ceres,  Barley's  daughter, 

Wine's  emulous  neighbour,  if  but  stale, 
Ennobling  all  the  nymphes  of  water, 
And  filling  each  man's  heart  with  laughter- 
Hah  !  give  me  Ale.  ' 


The  Praise  of  Ale. 

Come  all  you  brave  knights 
That  are  dubbed  ale-knights. 

Now  set  yourself  in  fight ; 
And  let  them  that  crack 
In  the  praises  of  Sack^ 

Know  mail  is  of  mickle  wight. 

Though  Sack  they  define 
To  be  holy,  divine, 

Yet  is  it  but  natural  liquor; 
Ale  hath  for  its  part, 
An  addition  of  art, 

To  make  it  drink  thinner  or  quicker. 

Sack's  fiery  fume 

Doth  waste  and  consume 

Men's  humidum  radlcale; 
It  scaldeth  their  livers, 
It  breeds  burning  fevers. 

Proves  vinum  venerium  rea/e. 


General  Songs.  243 


But  hiftory  gathert 
From  aged  forefathers, 

That  aUi  the  true  liquor  of  life ; 
Men  liv'd  long  in  health, 
And  preferred  their  wealth. 

Whilst  barley-broth  only  was  rife. 


•Sari  quickly  ascends, 
And  suddenly  ends — 

What  company  came  for  at  first ; 
And  that  which  yet  worse  is, 
It  empties  men's  purses 

Before  it  half  quenches  their  thirst. 

Ale  is  not  so  costly, 
Altho'  that  the  roost  lye 

Too  long  by  the  oil  of  barley  ; 
Yet  may  they  part  late 
At  a  reasonable  rate, 

Though  they  come  in  the  morning  early. 

Sack  makes  men  from  words 
Fall  to  drawing  of  swords, 

And  quarrelling  endeth  their  quaffing ; 
Whilst  dagger»ale  barrels 
Bear  off*  many  quarrels. 

And  oft  turn  chiding  to  laughing. 

Sact^i  drink  for  our  mailers  ; 
jIU  may  be  ale-tasters  ! 

Good  things  the  more  common  the  better : 
Sack's  but  single  broth  ; 
Ale's  meat,  drink,  and  cloth. 

Say  they  that  know  never  a  letter ! 

Q  2 


244  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

But  not  to  entangle 

Old  friends,  till  they  wrangle 

And  quarrel  for  other  roen'f  pleasure — 
Let  Ale  keep  his  place, 
And  let  Sack  have  his  grace, 

So  that  neither  es^ceed  the  true  measure. 

As  a  change  of  metre,  a  few  more  modem  songs  may  be  a 
relief,  albeit  they  be  somewhat  out  of  sequence  : — 

The  Good  Old  Days  of  Adam  and  Eve. 

1  sing,  I  sing  of  good  times  older. 
When  men  and  women  were  the  bolder. 
When  bills  were  short  and  credit  shorter. 
And  when  from  malt  they  brew'd  the  porter ; 
When  lawyers  were  too  proud  to  pillage, 
And  Horsley  Down  was  but  a  village  ; 
Christmas  had  its  Christmas  carols. 
And  ladies'  sides  were  hooped  like  barrels. 
Sing  hey,  sing  ho  !  I  can  but  grieve 
For  the  good  old  days  of  Adam  and  Eve. 

When  drinking  ale  made  strong  men  stronger. 
And  doctors  made  folks  live  the  longer, 
When  our  grand-dads  brew*d  stout  October, 
And  thought  it  a  sin  to  go  to  bed  sober ; 
Then  was  the  time  for  games  and  gambols, 
When  Oxford  Street  was  covered  with  brambles, 
Hedges  and  ditches,  and  ponds  of  water ; 
But  now  there's  nothing  but  bricks  and  mortar. 

Sing  hey,  sing  ho  !  &c. 

When  all  young  men  they  acted  vrise  in 
Getting  up  to  see  the  lark  arising, 
And  could,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken, 
Eat  for  breakfast  a  pound  of  bacon  ; 


General  Songs.  245 

But  DOW  our  Toms  and  Jerrys  gay,  sir. 
See  larks  by  nights  and  not  by  day,  sir, 
Get  in  rows,  and  have  long  parleys. 
And,  to  save  their  bacon,  floor  the  Charleys. 

Sing  hey,  siog  ho !  &c. 


When  this  very  place,  now  covered  over. 
Was  a  field  of  wheat,  or  perhaps  of  clover, 
Two  or  three  trees  for  the  cattle  to  get  under 
Out  of  the  way  of  the  lightning  and  thunder; 
No  sound  was  heard  but  the  sweet  birds  singing. 
Except  some  tune  the  London  bells  ringing; 
But  now  the  birds  hv  away  have  fled,  sir, 
And  we  are  the  birds  wot  sings  instead,  sir. 

Sing  hey,  sing  ho !  &c. 

When  ladies  and  gentlemen,  without  baulking, 
Could  go  into  Hyde  Park  a-walking. 
And,  without  a  bit  of  fuss  or  bother, 
Could  walk  from  one  end  to  the  other ; 
But  DOW  there  is  a  brazen  statue. 
Who  seems  ashamed,  for  he  can't  look  at  you; 
The  folks  do  say  'tis  called  a  trophy. 
But  the  ladies  won't  look,  and  the  men  say,  Oh  fie ! 

Sifig  hey,  sing  ho !  &c. 


When  young  folks,  when  they  went  a-wooing, 
Kept  to  themselves  what  they  were  doing, 
And  did  contrive  their  love  to  smother. 
Quite  unbeknown  to  their  father  and  mother; 
And  then  by  a  New  Marriage  Act  so  scarish 
They  told  the  affair  to  all  the  parish. 
Took  affidavits,  and  what  is  more,  sirs. 
Their  names  they  stuck  upon  the  church  door,  sirs. 

Sing  hey,  sing  ho  I  &c. 


246  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

When  every  inap»  whether  wwe  or  rocny, 
Was  pleased  at  the  right  of  a  good  old  guinea ; 
The  front  of  it  had  King  George'f  face  on. 
And  the  back  the  armf  and  the  old  spade  ace  on  ; 
But  now  the  sovereigns,  I  can  tell  you. 
They  are  not  worth  so  much  in  value  ; 
And  there  St  George  is,  without  a  rag  on, 
Galloping  over  an  ugly  dragon. 

Sing  hey,  ring  ho  !  &c. 

Speaking  of  Adam  and  Eve,  which  somehow  has  become 
a  tavern  sign,  it  is  not  generally  known  that  the  ^  Adam  and 
Eve  "  at  the  comer  of  Tottenham  Court  Road  and  Hampstead 
Road,  London,  was  the  house  that  the  Guards  started  from 
when  they  msrched  to  Finchley  to  quell  the  174$  rebellion. 
Hogarth,  in  his  celebrated  picture  of  *'The  march  of  the 
Guards,"  gave  a  full  view  of  the  house  as  it  then  was.  The 
tavern  was  originally  a  monaster}',  and  afterwards  became  the 
Manor  of  Tottenhill  (hence  Tottenham  Court  Road);  then  it 
became  transformed  into  the  celebrated  Tea  Gardens,  with  about 
two  acres  of  pleasure  gardens,  and  as  fashionable  in  its  way  as 
the  Yorkshire  Stingo,  Marylebone  Gardens,  Beulah  Spa,  and 
Saddler's  Wells  were  in  their  palmy  days.  The  memory  of  the 
bygone  glories  of  the  ^  Adam  and  Eve  "  is  still  perpetuated  in 
Eden  Street,  now  sacred  to  costermongers  and  factories. 

The  Dame  of  Homour. 

Sung  by  Mrs  Willies  in  the  opera  called  ''  The  kingdom  of 

the  birds.''     To  a  new  tune. 

Since  now  the  world's  tum'd  upride  down, 

And  all  things  chang'd  in  nature. 
As  if  a  doubt  was  newly  grown, 

We  had  the  same  Creator  ; 
Of  ancient  modes  and  former  ways 

I'll  teach  you,  rirs,  the  manner, 
In  good  Queen  Bess's  golden  days, 

When  1  was  a  dame  of  honour. 


General  Songs.  247 

1  had  an  ancient  noble  scat, 

Though  now  it  18  come  to  ruin, 
When  mutton,  beef,  and  such  good  meat 

In  th'  hall  was  daily  chewing  ; 
Of  humming  beer  my  cellar  full 

I  was  a  yearly  donor. 
Where  toping  knaves  had  many  a  pull 

When  I  was  a  dame  of  honour. 

My  men  of  homespun  honest  greys 

Had  coats  and  comely  badges  ; 
They  wore  no  dirty,  ragged  lace. 

Nor  ere  complained  for  wages. 
For  gaudy  frieze  and  silks  o'  the  town 

I  feared  no  threatening  dunner. 
But  wore  a  decent  grosgrain  gown 

When  I  was  a  dame  of  honour. 

My  neighbours  still  I  treated  round, 

And  strangers  that  came  near  me  ; 
The  poor,  too,  always  welcome  found, 

Whose  prayers  did  still  endear  me. 
Let  therefore  those  who  at  court  would  b? 

No  churl  nor  yet  no  fawner, 
Match'd  in  old  hospitality 

Queen  Bess's  dames  of  honour. 

"The  Jovial  Bear  Ward"  gives  us  a  good  picture  of  the 
times  in  which  it  was  written.  It  is — well,  forcibly  written,  and 
I  have  been  obliged  to  Bowdlerise  somt:what. 

Tho'  it  may  seem  rude 

For  me  to  intrude 
With  these  my  bears  by  chance  a; 

'Twere  sport  for  a  king, 

If  they  could  sing 
As  well  as  they  can  dince  a. 


248  Tn  Praise  of  Ale. 

Then  to  put  you  out 
Of  fear  and  doubt, 

I  came  from  St  Kaiberme  a ; 
These  dancing  three, 
By  the  help  of  roe. 

Who  am  keep  of  the  nne  a. 


We  sell  good  Ware, 
And  we  need  not  care, 

Tho'  court  and  country  knew  it ; 
Our  alc'8  o'  th'  beat, 
And  each  good  guest 

Prays  for  their  souls  that  brew  it. 


For  any  ale-house 
We  care  not  a  louse, 

Nor  tavern  in  all  the  town  a, 
Nor  the  Fintry  Crancjy 
Nor  St  Clement  Danes, 

Nor  the  Devil  can  put  us  down  a. 


Who  has  once  here  been 

Comes  hither  agen, 
The  liquor  is  so  mighty. 

Beer  strong  and  stale, 

And  so  is  our  ale, 
And  it  burns  like  aqua  viu. 

From  morning  to  night, 

And  about  to  daylight. 
They  sit  and  never  grudge  it: 

Till  the  (ish  wives  join 

Their  single  coin. 
And  the  tinker  pawns  his  budget. 


General  Songs.  249 

From  court  we  invite 

Lord,  lady,  and  knight. 
Squire,  gentleman,  yeoman,  and  groom ; 

And  all  our  suff  drinken, 

Smiths,  porters,  and  tinkers. 
And  the  beggars  shall  give  you  room. 

For  the  next  I  am  also  indebted  to  Mr  Ebsworth*s  collection, 
in  which  he  ascribes  the  ballad  to  Richard  Clunsall,  and  the 
music  to  William  Lowes.  I  have  only  taken  an  extract ;  the 
last  verse  is  suggestive  of  the  song  which  follows  :— 

Hang  Sorrow. 

Hang  sorrow,  let's  cast  away  care, 

For  now  I  do  mean  to  be  merry: 
We'll  drink  some  good  ale  and  strong  beere, 

With  sugar,  and  claret  and  sherry. 
Now  lie  have  a  wife  of  my  own, 

I  shall  have  no  need  to  borrow ; 
I  would  have  it  for  to  be  known, 

That  I  shall  be  married  to-morrow. 
Here's  a  health  to  my  bride  that  'shall  be ! 

Come  pledge  it,  my  coon  merry  blades ; 
The  day  I  much  long  for  to  see. 

We  will  be  as  merry  as  the  maides. 

Come  drink,  we  cannot  want  drink, 

Observe  how  my  pockets  do  jingle. 
For  he  that  ukes  his  liquor  all  off, 

I  here  do  adopt  him  mine  ningle : 
Then  range  a  health  to  our  king, 

I  mean  the  king  of  October, 
For  Bacchus  is  he,  that  will  not  agree 

A  man  should  go  to  bed  sober, 
'TIS  wine  both  neat  and  fine 

That  is  the  face's  adorning, 
No  doctor  can  cure  with  his  physic  more  sure. 

Than  a  cup  of  small  beer  in  the  roonuog. 


250  In  Praise  rf  Ale, 

•*  King  George  he  was  horn  in  the  month  of  October ^ 
^Tij  a  tin  for  a  sulject  to  go  to  bed  sober ^ — 

Carey,  1740. 

Come,  Landlord,  fill  the  Flouikg  Bowl. 

Thif  popular  song  was  founded  on  one  which  originally  ap- 
peared in  "  Fletcher's  Bloody  Brother." 

Come,  landlord,  fill  a  flowing  bowl,  until  it  does  run  over ; 
To-night  we  all  will  merry  be,  to-morrow  we'll  get  sober. 

He  that  drinks  strong  beer,  and  goes  to  bed  mellow, 
Lives  as  he  ought  to  live,  and  dies  a  heaity  fellow. 

Punch  cures  the  gout,  the  colic  and  the  tisic. 
And  is  to  all  men  the  very  best  of  physic. 

He  that  drinks  small  beer,  and  goes  to  bed  sober. 
Falls  as  the  leaves  do  that  die  in  October. 

He  that  drinks  strong  beer  and  goes  to  bed  mellow, 
Lives  as  he  ought  to  live,  and  dies  a  happy  fellow. 

He  that  courts  a  pretty  girl,  and  courts  her  for  her  pleasure. 
Is  a  fool  to  marfy  her  without  a  store  of  treasure. 

Now  let  us  dance  and  sing,  and  drive  away  all  sorrow. 
For  perhaps  wc  may  not  meet  again  to-morrow. 

The  lines  in  the  above  are  generally  repeated  ad  lib.^  and  taken 
up  as  a  full  and  lusty  chorus. 

Here  is  the  song  referred  to  in  the  above  note ; — 

<*  Drink  to-day  and  drown  all  sorrow, 
You  shall  perhaps  not  do  it  to-morrow : 
Best  while  you  have  it,  use  your  breath, 
There  is  no  drinking  after  death. 


Gemral  Songs.  2  5 1 

Wine  works  the  heart  up»  waket  the  wit — 
There  if  no  cure  'gainst  age  but  it — 
It  helps  the  head-ache,  cougb»  and  ptisick, 
And  if  for  all  difeases  physick. 

Then  let  us  swill,  boys,  for  our  health  ; 
Who  drinks  well,  loves  the  Conamonwealth, 
And  he  that  will  to  bed  go  sober. 
Falls  with  the  leaf,  still  in  October. ' 

The  above  song  was  supposed  by  Bell  to  have  been  adapted 
rather  than  written  by  Fletcher,  the  probable  date  is  about  164O. 
Two  lines  of  the  first  verse  appear  in  the  Bacchanalian  song  of 
••  Down  among  the  dead  men'*  2 — 

**  Come  ]et*s  drink  it  while  we've  breath, 
For  there's  no  drinking  after  death.*' 


English  Ale. 

Words  by  Harrison  Ainsworth.     Music  by  G.  H.  Rodwell. 
Cramer  &  Co.     This  used  to  be  trolled  out  by  Paul  Bedford. 

Oh,  froth  me  a  flagon  of  English  ale, 
Stout  and  old  and  as  amber  pale. 
Which  heart  and  head  will  alike  assail. 

Ale,  ale  be  mine. 
Or  brew  me  a  pottle  of  sturdy  sack, 
Sherris  and  spice  with  a  toast  at  its  back. 
And  need  shall  be  none  to  bid  me  attack 

That  drink  divine. 

Or  brew  me  a  pottle  of  sturdy  sack, 
And  need  shall  be  none  to  bid  me  attack 

That  drink  divine ! 

That  drink  divine  ! 


252  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Still  I  prefer  a  flagon  of  ale,  ha !  ha ! 

Stout  and  old,  ha  !  ha !  and  as  amber  pale,  ha  !  hu  ! 

Which  heart  and  head  will  alike  assail. 
Ale,  ale  be  mine.     Ale,  ale. 
Fine  old  English  ale !  ale,  ale. 
Fine  old  English  ale !     Ale  be  mine ! 


Your  Gaul  may  tipple  his  thin,  thin  wine. 
And  prate  of  its  hue  and  its  fragrance  fine. 

Shall  never  a  drop  pass  throat  of  mine  again,  again. 
His  claret  is  meagre,  but  let  that  pass; 
I  can't  say  much  for  his  hippocrass, 
And  never  more  will  I  fill  my  glass 

With  cold  champaign. 
His  claret  is  meagre  (but  let  that  pass). 
And  never  more  will  I  fill  my  glass 
With  cold,  with  cold  champaign. 

With  cold  champaign. 
For,  oh,  I  prefer  a  flagon  of  ale,  ha !  ha ! 
Stout  and  dd,  ha !  ha  !  and  as  amber  pale,  ha  !  ha ! 
Which  heart  and  head  will  alike  assail.     Ale,  ale,  be  mine, 
Ale,  ale,  fine  old  English  ale,  ale,  ale. 
Fine  old  English  ale  be  mine. 


When  Bstimes  in  the  Morn. 

When  betimes  in  the  mom  to  the  fields  we  repair. 

There  to  range  where  the  game  may  be  seated, 
At  the  sound  of  the  horn  all  disturbance  and  care 

Fly  away  at  the  noise  as  defeated. 
When  the  hounds  do  cry,  care  and  strife  do  fly, 

Having  nothing  at  all  to  oppose  it. 
Away  goes  the  fox  to  his  holes  in  the  rocks, 

As  the  lawyer  and  statesman  their  closet. 


General  Songs.  253 

When  the  game  breaks  away,  then  we  call  up  the  hounds, 

And  raise  up  a  hollo  to  cheer  them  ; 
So  the  echo,  that  then  through  the  woods  does  resound, 

Rejoices  the  hearts  that  do  hear  them. 
Then  Jingle  doth  roar,  hearing  Jowler  before, 

Rare  music  make  Sweet-lips  and  Mally  ; 
The  musical  noise  makes  the  huntsman  rejoice, 

And  the  squat  makes  the  pack  for  to  rally. 

When,  casting  about,  we  find  her  anew. 

Then  we  call  up  the  hounds  that  are  straying  ; 
Coming  up  with  a  shout,  we  give  them  a  view, 

While  we're  able  to  keep  her  a  playing. 
And  when  she  grows  weak,  and  her  life  is  at  stake, 

And  we*re  able  to  make  her  a  seizure, 
'Tis  then  at  our  will  to  save  or  to  kill, 

Then  home  we  return  at  our  leisure. 

And  when  we  come  home  we  get  as  good  cheer 

As  our  loving  dames  can  provide  us  ; 
We  drink  and  carouse  with  strong  ale  and  beer, 

Have  nothing  at  all  to  divide  us. 
We  rise  in  a  ring,  we  dance  and  we  sing, 

We've  enough  of  our  own,  need  not  borrow. 
Can  the  court  of  a  king  yield  a  pleasanter  thing, 

We're  to-day  just  as  we'll  be  to-morrow. 

Song  from  the  Turnpike  Gate. 

By  T.  Knight, 

With  a  merry  tale 

Sergeants  beat  the  drum  ; 
Noddles  full  of  ale 

Village  lads  they  hum  : 
Soldiers  out  go  all. 

Famous  get  in  story  ; 
if  they  chance  to  fall 

Don't  they  sle«p  in  glory 

Towdy  rowdy  dow,  Uz. 


254  I^  Praisi  of  Ale. 

Lawyers  try  when  fee'd, 

Juries  to  make  pliant ; 
If  they  can't  succeed, 

Then  they  hum  their  client ; 
To  perfection  come 

Humming  all  the  trade  is, 
Ladies  lovers  hum 

Lovers  hum  the  ladies. 

Towdy  rowdy  dow,  &c. 

Han't  Britannia's  sons 

Often  hunun'd  mounseer  ?— 
Han't  they  humm'd  the  Dons 

Let  their  fleets  appear. 
Strike  they  must  though  loth 

(Ships  vrith  dollars  cramm'd) 
If  they're  not  humm'd  both 

Then  I  will  be  d— d. 

Towdy  rowdy  dow,  &c. 

Hunters,  lawyers,  soldiers,  doctors,  and  divinities,  all  seemed 
to  be  mixed  up  with  beer,  which  never  fails  the  heart  to  cheer 
under  any  circumstances.  According  to  the  next  from 
D'Urfey,  a  foraging  expedition  in  Flanders,  where  our  troops 
learnt  to  swear  (and,  according  to  Sterne,  did  swear  horribly)^ 
had  its  drawbacks  as  well  as  its  consolations  in  an  ale  house. 

The  Pig's  March. 

Operatic  Song, 

Trooping  with  bold  commanders, 
Dubf  dub  a  dub,  dub  a  dub,  dub,  dub. 

To  charge  our  foes, 

In  frost  and  snows. 
With  hopes  of  plunder  big, 
Late  as  we  march'd  thro'  Flanders, 
Taniarra,  rarra,  tantarra. 


General  Songs.  255 

Hunger  and  cold 

Having  made  me  bold, 
In  knapsack  I  cramm'd  a  Pig-a, 
fFeeif  week,  weei,  aqocak'd  the  Pig» 
Ogh,  ogh,  oghf  gruntf  the  low. 

Yet  she  ran  as  fast  as  I, 

And  tho'  $ynh  away  I  fly, 
Yet  she  ran  as  fast  as  I 

Scowring  into  an  alehouse, 
Dub,  dub  a  dub,  dub  a  dub,  dub,  dub. 
Where  I  for  shot 
Paid  many  a  pot 
And  many  had  left  on  score 
Amongst  my  Comrades  and  Fellows, 
TantarrOy  rarra^  tantarra. 


Scarce  with  my  prize 

Had  1  blest  their  eyes, 
But  the  sow  too  was  at  the  door, 
IVeek^  weei,  weei,  squeaks  the  Pig, 
Oghy  oghy  oghf  grunts  the  sow, 

Such  noises  were  never  heard  before. 

Set  the  house  in  a  foul  uproar. 

Mawdling  the  bouncing  hostess, 

Dub,  dub  a  dub,  dub  a  dub,  dub,  dub, 
Presently  pufHng  came, 
With  a  face  inflam'd 
And  as  red  as  a  rump  of  beef. 
Threatens  me  with  a  justice, 
Tantarra^  rarra^  tantarra. 

'Till  flat  on  the  ground 

I  thump'd  her  down 
For  daring  to  call  me  thief, 

Then  Vfeehy  w^i,  wrri,  loud  she  squeak'd, 


256  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Then  pghy  ogh^  ogh,  like  the  sow, 
Till  at  last  in  the  woful  fray 
The  pig  too  got  quite  away. 

Read  what  Phillipf  says : — 

There,  on  well  fuePd  hearth  they  chat. 
Whilst  black-pots  walk  the  round  with  laughing  ale 
Surcharged ;  or  brew'd  in  planetary  hour, 
When  March  weigh 'd  night  and  day  in  equal  scale  : 
Or  in  October  sunn'd,  and  mellow  grown 
With  seven  revolving  suns,  the  racy  juice, 
Strong  with  delicious  flavour,  strikes  the  sense. 

•  •  *  *  • 

What  though  Britannia  boasts 
Herself  a  world,  with  ocean  circumfus'd  ? 
'Tis  ale  that  warms  her  sons  t'assert  her  claim 
And  with  full  volley  makes  her  naval  tubes 
Thunder  disastrous  doom  to  opponent  powers! 

•  •  •  •  • 

Allan  Ramsay  follows  the  same  strain  in  the  Gentle  Shep- 
herd. 

*<  I'll  yoke  my  slid,  and  send  to  the  neist  town. 
And  bring  a  draught  of  ale  both  stout  and  brown  ; 
And  gar  our  cottars  a',  man,  wife,  and  wean, 
Drink  till  they  tine  the  gate  to  stand  their  lane.*' 

The  author  of  the  tale  of  a  Pig  in  a  Poke  is  not  to  be  outdone. 

"  A  half-way  house  convenient  stood, 
Where  host  was  kind  and  ale  was  good  $ 
In  steps  the  clown,  and  calls  to  Cecil — 
*  A  quart  of  stout,  to  wet  my  whistle ! ' 
Eased  of  his  load,  he  takes  a  chair, 
And  quaffs  oblivion  to  all  care. 
With  potent  ale  his  heart  grows  warm. 
Which  drunk  or  sober  means  no  harm." 


General  Songs.  257 

The  «  British  Orpheuf  "  fbllowi  suit  :— 

By  the  Gaily  CncuNG  Glass. 

By  the  gaily  circling  glass 
We  can  see  how  minutes  pass ; 
By  the  hollow  flask  we're  told. 
How  the  waning  night  grows  old. 

How  the  waning  night  grows  old. 

Soon,  too  soon,  the  busy  day, 
Drives  us  from  our  sport  away ; 
What  have  we  with  day  to  do  ? 
Sons  of  Care,  'twas  made  for  you ! 

Sons  of  Care,  'twas  made  for  you. 

By  the  silence  of  the  owl ; 

By  the  chirping  on  the  thorn  ; 
By  the  butts  that  empty  roll ; 

We  foretell  the  approach  of  mom. 
Fill,  then,  fill  the  vacant  glass ; 

Let  no  precious  moment  slip  ; 
Flout  the  nx>ralising  ass ; 

Joy  finds  entrance  at  the  lips. 

Ford  and  Dekker  keep  the  fun  up  ha  and  furiously  in  the  play 
of  ••The  Sun's  Darling,"  1623  :— 

Cast  away  Care. 

Cast  away  care ;  he  that  loves  sorrow 
Lengthens  not  a  day,  nor  can  buy  to-morrow ; 
Money  is  trash  ;  and  he  that  will  spend  it. 
Let  him  drink  merrily,  Fortune  will  send  it. 

Merrily,  merrily,  merrily.  Oh,  ho ! 

Play  it  off  stifRy,  we  may  not  part  so. 


258  In  Praise  cf  Ale. 

Wine  is  a  chanD,  it  heats  the  blood  too. 
Cowards  it  will  amiy  if  the  wine  be  good  too ; 
Quickens  the  wit,  and  makes  the  back  able ; 
Scorn  to  submit  to  the  watch  or  constable. 

Merrily,  5cc. 

Pots  fly  about,  give  us  more  liquor, 
Brothers  of  a  root,  our  brains  will  flow  quicker 
Empty  the  cask ;  score  up,  we  care  not, 
FUl  all  the  pots  again,  drink  on,  and  spare  not. 

Merrily,  5cc. 

Among  the  dramatists,  Sheridan's  songs  will  always  hold  a 
conspicuous  place,  especially  his  trio : — 

A  Bumper  of  Good  Lioyoiu 

A  bumper  of  good  liquor 
Will  end  a  contest  quicker 
Than  justice,  judge,  or  vicar ; 

So  fill  a  cheerful  glass 

And  let  good  humour  pass. 

But  if  more  deep  the  quaixel, 
Why  sooner  drain  the  barrel 
Than  be  the  hateful  fellow, 
That's  crabbed  when  he's  mellow. 

So  fill  a  cheerful  glass 

And  let  good  humour  pass. 

Bums  inculcates  a  similar  genial  philosophy : — 

^  When  neebours  anger  at  a  plea. 
Ah'  just  as  wud  as  wud  can  be, 
How  easy  can  the  barley-brce 

Cement  the  quarrel ! 
It's  aye  the  cheapest  lawyer's  fee 

To  taste  the  barrel." 


General  Songs.  259 


Bachanalian  Sono. 

By  Mr  PhUips. 

Come,  fil]  me  a  glass,  fill  it  high, 
A  bumper,  a  bumper  I'll  have: 
He's  a  fool  that  will  flinch,  I'll  not  bate  an  inch. 
Though  1  drink  myself  into  my  grave. 

Here's  a  health  to  all  those  jolly  souls 
Who,  like  me,  will  never  give  o*er, 
Whom  no  danger  controb,  but  will  take  off  their  bowls. 
And  merrily  stickle  for  more. 

Drown  Reason  and  all  such  weak  foes, 
I  scorn  to  obey  her  command ; 
Could  she  ever  suppose  I'd  be  led  by  the  nose 
And  let  my  glass  idly  stand  ? 

Reputation  's  a  bugbear  to  fools, 
A  foe  to  the  joys  of  dear  drinking. 
Made  use  of  by  tools,  who'd  set  us  new  rules. 
And  bring  us  to  politic  thinking. 

Fill  them  all,  I'll  have  six  in  a  hand, 
For  I've  trifled  an  age  away; 
Tis  in  vain  to  command,  the  fleeting  sand 
Rolls  on  and  cannot  stay. 

Come*  my  lads,  move  the  glass,  drink  about. 
We'll  drink  the  whole  universe  dry. 
We'll  set  foot  to  foot  and  drink  it  all  out, 
If  once  we  grow  sober  we  die. 

There  is  a  wonderful  unanimity  of  opinion  as  to  the  virtues  of 
good  ale  amongst  novelists  as  well  as  the  dramatists.     Thomas 

ft  2 


26o  h  Praise  (f  Ale. 

Holcroft,  in  his  ttory  of  Hugh  Treror,  intersperses  a  tery 
favourite  song,  winding  np  with  an  appropriate  moral : — 


Gaffer  Geay. 

Ho  !  why  dost  thou  shiver  and  shake. 

Gaffer  Gray  ! 
And  why  doth  thy  nose  look  so  blue  ? 
"  Tis  the  weather  that's  cold, 
'Tis  I'm  grown  very  old, 
And  my  doublet  is  not  very  new, 
Well-a-day! 


» 


Then  line  thy  worn  doublet  with  ale, 

Gafler  Gray, 

And  warm  thy  old  heart  with  a  glass. 

"  Nay,  but  credit  I've  none, 

And  my  money's  all  gone ; 

Then  say  how  may  that  come  to  pass? 

Well-a-day!" 

Hie  away  to  the  house  on  the  brow, 

Gaffer  Gray ; 
And  knock  at  the  jolly  priest's  door. 
«*  The  priest  often  preaches 
Against  worldly  riches ; 
But  ne'er  gives  a  mite  to  the  poor. 
WeU^-day!" 

The  lawyer  lives  under  the  hill, 

Gafler  Gray, 
Warmly  fenc'd  both  in  back  and  in  front* 
<«  He  will  fasten  his  locks. 
And  will  threaten  the  stocks, 
Should  he  evermore  find  me  in  want. 
Well-a-day  I" 


General  Songs.  261 

The  'Squire  has  fat  beeves  and  brown  ale. 

Gaffer  Gray, 
And  the  season  will  welcome  you  there. 
^  His  hi  beeves  and  his  beer 
And  his  merry  new  year 
Are  all  for  the  flush  and  the  fiur. 
WcU-a^lay!" 

My  keg  u  but  low,  I  confess. 

Gaffer  Gray. 
What  then  ?  while  it  lasts,  man,  we'll  live. 
**  The  poor  man  alone, 
When  he  hears  the  poor  moan, 
Of  his  morsel  a  morsel  will  give. 
Well-a^y!" 

Even  Thomas  Love  Peacock,  whose  quaint  and  humorous 
alliterative  novels  will  bear  reading  and  re-reading,  follows  the 
general  lead  in  ''  Headlong  Hall,"  where  Mr  Chromatic,  **  the 
most  profound  and  scientific  of  all  amateurs  of  the  fiddle,"  sings 
the  following  de^mortuit  song  in  honour  of  Sir  Peter : — 

Thr££  TiMU  Thuee. 

In  his  last  binn  Sia  Pcter  lies, 

Who  knew  not  what  it  was  to  frown  \ 
Death  took  him  mellow,  by  surprise. 

And  in  his  cellar  stopped  him  down. 
Through  all  our  land  we  could  not  boast 

A  knight  more  gay,  more  prompt  than  he 
To  rise  and  fill  a  bumper  toast. 

And  pass  it  round  with  three  times  three. 

None  better  knew  the  feast  to  sway. 

Or  keep  Mirth's  boat  in  better  trim; 
For  Nature  had  but  little  clay 

Like  that  of  which  she  moulded  him. 


a62  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  meaoeet  guest  that  graced  his  board 

Was  there  the  freest  of  the  free, 
His  hamper  toast  when  Peter  poured 

And  passed  it  round  with  three  times  threk. 

He  kept  at  true  good  humour's  mark 

The  social  flow  of  pleasure's  tide, 
He  never  made  a  brow  look  dark 

Nor  caused  a  tear  but  when  he  died. 
No  sorrow  round  his  tomb  should  dwell : 

More  pleased  his  gay  old  ghost  would  be, 
For  funeral  song  and  passing  bell, 

To  hear  no  sound  but  three  times  three. 

In  common  with  «*  Sir  Peter,"  "  Tom  Moody,  the  Whipper 
in  Well,"  "  The  Dropsical  Man,"  celebrated  by  Mr  W.  Taylor, 
had  the  ruling  passion  strong  in  death : — 


The  Dropsical  Man. 

A  jolly  brave  toper  who  cou'd  not  forbear, 

Tho'  his  life  was  in  danger,  old  port  and  stale  beer. 

Gave  the  doctors  the  hearing,  but  still  wou'd  drink  on, 

Till  the  dropsy  had  swell'd  him  as  big  as  a  tun. 

The  more  he  took  physic  the  worse  still  he  grew. 

And  tapping  was  now  the  last  thing  he  cou'd  do. 

Affairs,  at  this  crisis,  and  doctors  come  down, 

He  began  to  consider — so  sent  for  his  son. 

Tom,  see  by  what  courses  I've  shortened  my  life, 

I'm  leaving  the  world  ere  I'm  forty-and-five ; 

More  than  probable  'tis,  that  in  twenty-four  hours. 

This  manor,  this  house,  and  estate  will  be  yours. 

My  early  excesses  may  teach  you  this  truth, 

That  'tis  working  for  death  to  drink  hard  in  one's  youth. 

Says  Tom  (who's  a  lad  of  a  generous  spirit. 

And  not  like  young  rakes  who're  in  haste  to  inherit), 


General  Songs.  263 

Sir,  don't  be  disheaiten'd  ;  altho'  it  be  true, 
Th'  operation  is  painful  and  hazardous  too, 
'Tis  no  more  than  what  many  a  man  has  gone  thro\ 
And  then,  as  for  years,  you  may  yet  be  calPd  young, 
Vour  life  after  this  may  be  happy  and  long. 
Don't  flatter  me,  Tom,  was  the  Other's  reply, 
With  a  jest  in  his  mouth  and  a  tear  in  his  eye; 
Too  well,  by  experience,  my  vessels,  thou  koow'st, 
No  sooner  are  tap'd  but  they  give  up  the  ghost 


A  Glass  op  Rich  Brown  Ale. 

Jesse  Hammond. 

Air,  Tife  Ltui  of  Richmond  Hill. 

Let  gallants  boast  their  bowers  of  bliss 

And  raptured  scenes  of  love ; 
Their  feast  a  sigh — their  heaven  a  Iciss^ 
Their  Paradise  the  grove : 
But  I  have  more 
True  bliss  in  store. 
And  joys  that  never  fail 
Whilst  friendship's  shrine 
My  cot  is  mine. 
And  a  glass  of  rich  brown  ale. 

Let  misers  turn  their  riches  o'er. 

And  gaze  on  bags  of  gold ; 
With  my  wealth  they  must  be  poor 
When  all  their  treasure's  told ; 
But  1  have  naore 
True  wealth  in  store, 
And  joys  that  never  fail 
Whilst  friendship's  shrine 
My  cot  is  mine. 
And  a  glass  of  rich  brown  ale. 


264  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

Let  monarchty  in  their  marble  domes. 

Boast  a  mach  grander  lot ; 

I  envy  not  their  splendid  homes 

Whilst  monarch  of  my  cot ! 

There  I  have  more 

True  bliss  in  store, 
And  joys  that  never  fail 

Whilst  friendship's  shrine 

My  cot  is  mine, 
And  a  glass  of  rich  brown  ale. 

Here  is  a  capital  modem  song,  the  words  being  wedded  to  a 
rattling  good  tune.  We  believe  the  song  was  published  originally 
by  Messrs  Cocks  &  Co.,  of  New  Burlington  Street,  and  is  one 
of  the  best  modem  songs  extant : — 

A  Glass  of  Old  Enoush  Ale. 
Words  by  J.  Caxton.     Music  by  Mallardaine. 

They  talk  about  their  foreign   wines —champagne  and   bright 

Moselle, 
And  think  because  they're  from  abroad,  that  we  must  like  them 

weU, 
And  of  their  wholesome  qualities  they  tell  a  wondrous  tale ; 
But  sour  or  sweet,  they  cannot  beat  a  glass  of  old  English  ale. 

^^m/— So  come  what  will,  boys,  drink  it  still, 
Your  checks  'twill  never  pale ; 
Their  foreign  stuff  is  well  enough,  but  give  me 
Old  English  ale,  my  boys. 
But  give  me  old  English  ale. 

When  schoolboy  friends  meet  once  again,  who  have  not  met  for 

years. 
Say,  over  what  will  they  sit  down,  and  talk  of  their  careers, 
Your  «*  wishy  washy  "  wines  won't  do,  and  fiery  spirits  fail. 
For  nothing  blends  the  heart  of  friends  like  good  old  English  ale. 

So  come  what  will,  5cc. 


General  Songs.  265 

D'ye  think  my  eye  would  be  m  bright,  my  heart  as  light  and  gay. 
If  I  and  '<  old  John  Barleycorn  "  did  not  shake  hands  each  day  ? 
No,  no ;  and  though  teetotalers  at  malt  and  hops  may  rail, 
At  them  I'll  laugh  and  gaily  quaff  my  glass  of  old  English  ale. 

So  come  what  will,  &c. 

Cowley  translated  a  grand  ode  of  Anacreon  in  fiifour  of  liberal 
drinking,  drawing  his  inspiration  from  Nature  herself:— 

Ode  to  Dunking 

The  thirsty  earth  soaks  up  the  rain, 
And  drinks,  and  gapes  for  drink  again. 
The  plants  suck  in  the  earth,  and  are 
With  constant  drinking  fresh  and  fair ; 
The  sea  itself  (which  one  would  think 
Should  have  but  little  need  of  drink) 
Drinks  twice  ten  thousand  rivers  up, 
So  fiird  that  they  o'erflow  the  cup. 
The  busy  sun  (and  one  would  guess 
By  *8  dmnken  fiery  face  no  less) 
Drinks  up  the  sea,  and,  when  he's  done, 
The  moon  and  stars  drink  up  the  sun : 
They  drink  and  dance  by  their  own  light ; 
They  drink  and  revel  all  the  night. 
Nothing  in  nature 's  sober  found. 
But  an  eternal  health  goes  round. 
Fill  up  the  bowl,  then  fill  it  high. 
Fill  all  the  glasses  there,  for  why 
Should  every  creature  drink  but  I ; 
Why,  man  of  morals,  tell  me  why  ? 

Lansdown,  in  his  '<  Invocation  to  Sleep,"  has  caught  some  of 
the  Anacreontic  spirit : — 

Invocation  to  Sleep. 

Great  God  of  Sleep,  since  it  must  be. 
That  we  must  give  some  hours  to  thee, 


2  66  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Invade  me  not  while  the  het  bowl 

Glows  in  my  cheeks,  and  warms  my  soul ; 

That  be  my  only  time  to  snore. 

When  I  can  laugh,  and  drink  no  more ; 

Short,  very  short  be  then  thy  reign. 

For  I'm  in  haste  to  laugh  and  drink  again. 

But  O !  if  melting  in  my  arms, 

In  some  soft  dream,  with  all  her  charms. 

The  nymph  belov'd  should  then  surprise. 

And  grant  what  waking  she  denies ; 

Then,  gentle  slumber,  pr*ythee  stay, 

Slowly,  ah !  slowly  bring  the  day, 

Let  no  rude  noise  my  bliss  destroy. 

Such  sweet  delusion's  real  joy. 

After  so  many  odes  and  solos  a  part  song  may  not  be  out  of 
place.  The  next  «  Three  Man  Song,"  from  "  The  Shoemaker's 
Holiday,"  1600^  was  once  an  universal  favourite. 


Three  Man  Song. 

Cold's  the  wmd  and  wet's  the  rain, 
Saint  Hugh  be  our  good  speed: 

111  is  the  weather  that  bringeth  no  gain, 
Nor  helps  good  hearts  in  need. 

Trowl  the  bowl,  the  jolly  nut-brown  bowl, 

And  here  kind  mate  to  thee. 
Let's  sing  a  dirge  for  Saint  Hugh's  soul. 

And  down  it  merrily. 

Down  a  down,  hey  down  a  down. 
Hey  deny,  derry,  down  a  down, 
Ho,  well  done  to  let  me  come, 
Ring  compass,  gentle  joy. 


General  Songs.  267 

Trowl  the  bowl,  the  nut-brown  bowl, 

And  here,  kind  mate,  to  thee, 
Let's  sing  a  dirge  for  Saint  Hugh's  soul 

And  down  it  merrily. 

Cold's  the  wind  and  wet's  the  rain, 

Saint  Hugh  be  our  good  speed, 
111  is  the  weather  that  bringeth  no  gain, 

Nor  helps  good  hearts  in  need. 

The  next  two  catches  are  from  Mr  Ebsworth's  collection  of 
"  Choyce  Drollery  "  :— 

**  Drink,  boys,  drink,  boys,  drink  and  doe  not  spare, 
Troul  away  the  bowl  and  take  no  care. 
So  that  we  have  meat  and  drink,  and  money  and  clothes. 
What  care  we,  what  care  we  how  the  world  goes?" 


A  Catch. 

Tis  ale,  my  bonny  lads,  is  as  brown  as  a  berry; 
Then  let  us  be  merry  here  an  houre, 
And  drink  it  ere  its  soure 

Here's  to  thee,  lad, 

Come  to  me,  lad ; 
Let  it  come,  boy,  to  my  thumb,  boy. 
Drink  it  off.  Sir,  'tis  enough.  Sir; 
Fill  mine  host  Tom's  pot  and  toast. 

The  next  is  taken  from  the  play  of  "  Love  for  Love,'    by 
William  Congreve  (i672.i728) : — 

"  Prithee  fill  me  the  glass, 

Till  it  laugh  in  my  face, 
With  ale  that  is  potent  and  mellow ; 

He  that  whines  for  a  lass 

Is  an  ignorant  ass, 
For  a  bumper  has  not  its  fellow. 


268  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

We'll  drink  and  we'll  never  ha*  done,  boys, 
Put  the  glass  then  around  with  the  sun,  boys^ 
Let  Apollo's  example  invite  us ; 

For  he's  drunk  every  night. 

And  that  makes  him  so  bright. 
That  he's  able  next  morning  to  light  us. 

To  drink  is  a  Christian  diversion. 
Unknown  to  the  Turk  or  the  Persian : 

Let  Mahometan  fools 

Live  by  heathenish  rules, 
And  be  damned  over  tea-cups  and  coffee ; 

But  let  British  lads  sing. 

Crown  a  health  to  the  king. 
And  a  fig  for  your  Sultan  and  Sophy. 

Thos.  Ravenscroft,  author  of  "  Tosse  the  pot,  tosse  the  pot," 
is  answerable  for: — 


One  Tooth  is  Dry. 

Trudge  away  quickly  and  fill  the  black  bole 
Devoutly  as  long  as  we  bide ; 
Now  welcome,  good  fellows,  both  strangers  and  all, 
Let  madness  and  mirth  set  sadness  aside. 

Of  all  reckonings  I  love  good  cheere. 

With  honest  folks  in  company: 

And,  when  drunke,  comes  my  part  for  to  beare, 

For  still  methinks  one  tooth  is  drye. 

Love  is  a  pastime  for  a  king 
If  one  be  seen  in  phisnomie; 
But  I  love  well  this  pot  to  wing, 
For  still  methinks  one  tooth  is  drye. 


General  Songs.  269 

Masterly  this  is  all  my  desirey 
I  woulde  no  druoke  should  passe  us  by; 
Let  us  now  sing  and  mend  the  fier. 
For  sdlJ  roethinks  one  tooth  is  dr3re. 

Mr.  Butler,  give  us  a  taste 

Of  your  best  drink  so  gently: 

A  jugge  or  twaine  and  make  no  waste. 

For  still  methinks  one  tooth  is  drye. 

Mr.  Butler,  of  this  take  part 
(Ye  love  good  drinke  as  well  as  I) ; 
And  drink  to  me  with  all  your  hearty 
For  still  roethinks  one  tooth  is  drye. 

Here  is  an  imitation  of  Herr  V.  Muhler's  famous  song,  written 
by  F.  C.  H.  in  NoUi  and  Queries : — 


The  Drunkard's  Conceit. 

Straight  from  the  tavern  door  1  am  come  here; 
Old  road,  how  odd  to  me  thou  dost  appear! 
Right  and  left,  changing  sides,  rising  and  sunk; 
Oh,  I  can  plainly  see,  road,  thou  art  drunk! 

Oh,  what  a  twisted  face  thou  hast,  O  moon ! 

One  eye  shut,  t'other  eye  wide  as  a  spoon. 

Who  could  have  dreamt  of  this?     Shame  on  thee,  shame! 

Thou  hast  been  fuddling,  jolly  old  dame! 

Look  at  the  lamps  again ;  see  how  they  reel ! 
Nodding  and  flickering  round  as  they  wheel. 
Not  one  among  them  all  steady  can  go; 
Look  at  the  drunken  lamps,  all  in  a  row. 


2  /O  In  Praise  cf  Ale. 

All  m  an  uproar  seem,  great  things  and  small; 
I  am  the  only  one  sober  at  all ; 
But  there's  no  safety  here  for  sober  men, 
So  111  turn  back  to  the  tavern  again. 

The  Gentkmaa^i  Magaxine^  I737>  contains  a  capital  ode  on : — 

Enolish  Ale. 

By  Astrophy. 

AJel  theme  inspiring  mirth  and  tuneful  song, 
O  be,  like  thee,  my  lay  dear,  smootli,  and  strong; 
Whether  alone  from  soft  molasses  boil'd. 
Or  brew'd  with  hop,  by  sots  plain  poiter  stil'd, 
Or  in  coarse  bottle  or  decanter  clean, 
Wrought  plate,  or  homely  jack,  or  pewter  mean  — 
Howe'er  conveyed,  to  thy  renown  I  bring 
This  laboured  verse:  aid  thou  the  muse  to  sing. 
Chief  at  our  han'cst  home  or  Christmas  cheer, 
Or  Whitsun  wake,  thy  circling  cups  appear. 
Fav'rite  of  gossips  at  the  groaning  treat, 
Where  the  full  brimmer  tells  there's  no  deceit. 
To  vestry  officers,  in  liv'ry  drest, 
How  pleasing,  roaming  on  th'  ungrateful  quest: 
Nor  to  th'  expecting  mob,  on  signal  days. 
Less  welcome  shouting  wind,  ye  bonfire's  blaze. 
In  wintry  alehouse,  fam'd  for  smoak  and  noise, 
Thy  tankard  crowns  tlie  toil'd  mechanic's  joys; 
And  at  elections,  'mid  each  party  tribe. 
Prove,  for  the  casting  vote,  the  safest  bribe. 
In  happier  times,  ere  tea's  debauching  mode 
Did  the  brown  bowl  and  nutmeg  toast  explode — 
Ere  the  fine  toast  were  taught  ye,  squeambh  belle. 
Ale,  nappy  breakfast,  pleas'd  her  choice  as  well. 
Then  rosy  tinctures,  then  a  lively  air 
(Not,  as  now,  wan  and  languid)  grac'd  the  fair; 


General  Songs.  2  7 1 

Then  ye  spic'd  hot-pot,  rich  with  sprightly  Nantz, 
Cou'd  treat,  in  lieu  of  Bordeaux,  spruce  gallants. 
But  good  old  customs  long  depos'd  we  see; 
The  dear,  dear  vogue  la  a  la  mode  Parte* 
Desist,  just  satyr,  trace  thy  milder  theme. 
Nor  sadden  humour  with  the  glooms  of  phlegm. 
Be  in  thy  verse  ale's  numerous  species  shown, 
From  the  same  grain  by  various  titles  known. 
Bright  amber,  prized  by  the  luxurious  town. 
The  pale-hued  Dorchester,  the  stout  nut-brown; 
Beer  differenced  with  the  butt's  distinguished  name. 
And  purl,  supporter  of  the  long-liv'd  dame. 
In  the  grape's  praise  Anacreon's  numbers  shine, 
And  gentler  Flaccus  sung  the  charms  of  wine : 
The  apple's  fame  sweet  Phillips'  lays  impart. 
And  barley,  thou  shalt  claim  my  humbler  art. 
How  blest,  could,  in  thy  turn,  thy  bard  regale — 
Peculiar  wish — with  Oxford's  fav'rite  ale. 
Quaff'd  by  old  Isis'  banks  in  sylvan  scenes. 
Or,  with  good  fellows,  wind  the  horn  at  Queen's. 
Delicious  viands,  boon  of  Ceres'  hand, 
To  Britons  given — thy  native,  happy  land. 
How  would  thy  traffic  spread,  thy  credit  rise, 
O !   had'st  thou  but  more  malt — and  less  excise. 

Mr  Poole,  who  was  butler  to  a  nobleman,  also  gives  a  very  good 
song  in  his  work  on  the  **  Art  of  Brewing,"  but  whether  it  is 
original  or  not  he  omits  to  state  : — 


English  Bright  Beer. 

When  humming  bright  beer  was  an  Englishman's  taste, 
Our  wives  they  were  merry,  our  daughters  were  chaste. 
Their  breath  smelt  like  roses  whenever  embraced. 

Oh,  the  bright  beer  of  old  England ! 

Oh,  the  old  English  bright  beer ! 


272  In  Praise  cf  Ale. 

Ere'coiiee  and  tea  found  the  way  to  the  town. 
Our  ancestors  by  their  own  fire  sat  down ; 
Their  bread  it  was  white,  and  their  beer  it  was  brown. 

Ohy  the  brown  beer,  &c. 

Our  heroes  of  old,  of  whose  conquest  we  boast. 
Would  make  a  good  meal  of  a  pot  and  a  toast ; 
This  maxim  ne'er  failed  m  ruling  the  roast. 

Ohy  the  brown  beer,  &c. 

When  the  great  Spanish  fleet  on  our  coast  did  appear. 
Our  sailors  each  one  drank  a  flagon  of  beer. 
And  sent  them  away  with  a  flea  in  their  ear. 

Ob,  the  bright  beer,  flee. 

Our  dergymen  then  took  a  cup  of  good  beer. 
Ere  they  mounted  the  rostrum,  their  spirits  to  cheer ; 
They  preach'd  against  vice,  altho'  courtiers  were  near. 

Oh,  the  bright  beer,  flee. 

Their  doctrines  were  then  authentic  and  bold. 
Well  grounded  on  scripture  and  Euhers  of  old ; 
But  now  they  preach  nothing  but  what  they  are  told. 

Oh,  the  bright  beer,  flee. 

For  since  the  Geneva  and  strong  ratafie. 

We  are  dwindled  to  nothing — but  stay  let  me  see — 

Faith !  nothing  at  all  but  mere  fiddle-de-dee. 

Oh,  the  bright  beer,  flee. 

I  am  indebted  to  Messrs  Read  Brothers,  of  Kentish  Town, 
whose  name  is  known  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  for  the  following 
prose  poem  on  Burton  ale,  beloved  of  Britons  in  all  quarters  of 
that  empire  on  which  the  sun  never  sets.  As  a  specimen  of 
Antipodean  literature  it  is  rich  and  racy,  and  does  excellent  credit 
to  the  worthy  scribe  who  penned  it  The  Australians  may  be 
Aley-uns,  they  will  never  become  aliens.  *•  It's  brisk  as  bottled 
ale :  "— 


General  Songs.  273 

Yl  Olde  Enclyshe  Ale. 

"  Henr's  a  pot  of  good  double  bef  r,  neighbour ;  drink  and  fear 
not  your  man."  And  as  wittye  Master  Shakespeare  hath  again 
well  sayde,  "  It  illumtnateth  the  hce^  warmeth  the  blood,  and 
maketh  it  course  from  the  inwards  to  the  parts  extreme." 

Albeit  such  sturdy  liquor  hath  in  these  latter  dayes  bene  dis- 
placed by  ye  ^mous  drynk  hight  **  pale  ale,"  of  most  deserved 
renowne  and  right  worthie  of  a  kinge's  ransome  for  ye  satisfying 
of  ye  hot  and  droughty  thirst — such  as  ye  brand  of  ye  Bull 
Dogge's  Head  never  fayleth  to  quench  withaL 

Ye  light,  nimble,  and  ethereal  properties  of  ye  Bull  Dogge's 
Head  pale  ale  are  commended  of  all,  and  ye  good  wights  much 
delight  therein,  for  they  may  drink  thereof  without  stynt,  and 
further  prayse  were  but  as  gilding  to  much  refined  gold. 

But  although  for  several  1  reasons  it  is  not  wisht  to  check  ye 
full  and  liberal  consumption  of  ye  Bull  Dogge's  Head  pale  ale, 
yet  tis  no  heresie  to  afHrme  that  at  tymes,  and  especially  in  ye  chill 
winter  season,  men  seek  some  greater  sustenance  and  nutriment. 

Nowe,  verilie,  there  is  then  no  such  good  and  wholesome  a 
drynk  as  ye  old  Burton  ale — ye  natural!  wine  of  ye  barley — and 
nowe  well  nigh  as  extinct  as  ye  andent  arquebus. 

Therefore,  with  manie  cunning  devyces,  right  skylfull  knowledge, 
and  eke  greate  expenses,  such  olde  Englyshe  ale,  at  ye  desire  of 
Maisters  Read  Brothers  (ye  bottlers  of  Kentish  Town,  neere  unto 
London),  hath  bene  once  more  compounded  alone  from  ye 
generous  malt  and  ye  fragrant  hop,  which  latter  in  moderation  is 
approved  of  greate  and  singular  vertue. 

Tis  sayde  that  **everie  god£ither  can  give  a  name,"  so  call 
we  this  liquor  ^  olde  Englyshe  ale  "  as  its  most  appertinent  and 
befitting  title. 

It  were  impossible  to  divine  what  rare  and  funciflil  conceits  are 
engendered  of  such  generous  liquor  and  ye  rare  vertues  it  con- 
uiyneth,  for  one  may  affirme  of  thilke  ale  that  it  excelleth  much 
in  driving  away  carking  care,  giving  wytte  to  ye  dul  spright,  jollitie 
and  pleasaunce  to  ye  mirthfiill,  and  braverie  to  all  such  as  doe  lack 


274  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

courage.  Yet  it  behoveth  one  to  be  discrete,  and  to  drinkc  onlye 
with  becoming  prudence,  in  signe  whereof  it  is  sent  out  onlye  in 
ye  bottles  yclept  **  pints." 

Such  as  may  desyre  to  obtayn  of  this  goodlie  ale  should  hie 
them  straitway  to  Cattell  and  Co.,  ye  onlye  importers  in  Sydney. 

The  annexed,  from  «  The  Myrdc  and  the  Vine  "  ( 1 800),  is 
interesting  as  giving  the  names  of  London  brewers  who  flourished 
at  that  date: — 

A  Pot  of  Porter,  Ho  ! 

When  to  Old  England  I  come  home, 

Fal  lal,  fal,  lal,  la! 
What  joy  to  see  the  tankard  foam, 

Fal  lal,  fal,  lal,  la! 
When  treading  London's  well-known  ground 

If  e'er  I  feel  my  spirits  tire, 
I  haul  my  sail,  look  up  around 

In  search  of  Whitbread's  best  entire. 
I  spy  the  name  of  Calvert, 

Of  Curtis,  Cox,  and  Co. ; 
I  give  a  cheer  and  bawl  for  't, 

•«  A  pot  of  porter,  ho!" 

When  to  old  England  I  come  home, 
What  joy  to  see  the  tankard  foam ! 
With  heart  so  light,  and  frolic  high, 
I  drink  it  off  to  liberty! 

Where  wine  and  water  can  be  found, 

Fal  lal,  fal,  lal,  la! 
I've  traveird  hr  the  world  around, 

Fal  lal,  fal,  lal,  la! 
Again,  I  hope,  before  I  die, 
Of  England's  can  the  uste  to  try; 
For  many  a  league  I'd  go  about 
To  uke  a  draught  of  Gifford's  stouL 


General  Songs.  275 

I  qyy  the  name  of  Tranian, 

Of  Maddox,  Metix,  and  Cp* ; 
The  sight  makes  me  a  new  man* 

**  A  pot  of  porter,  ho! " 

When  to  old  England,  &c. 

Of  modern  songs  I  think  the  song  from  ^  Martha,"  "  What 
shall  I  Drink?"  to  be  about  the  best  in  words,  and  it  if 
wedded  to  an  appropriate  and  inspiriting  air.  I  am  indebted  to 
the  courtesy  of  Messrs  Hutchings  &  Romer  of  Conduit  Street, 
Regent  Street,  for  permission  to  reprint  the  words,  and  would 
refer  to  them  for  the  music. 


What  shall  I  Drink  ? 

Chi  Aft  Dira. 

What  shall  I  drink?  with  what  must  I  fill 
This  old  brown  jug  dull  care  to  kill. 

Or  drive  the  spell  away? 
Naught  in  the  world  can  equal  beer. 
Which  never  fails  the  heart  to  cheer? 
And  all  true  Britons  love  their  beer, 
And  all  true  Britons  love  their  beer! 
Jove's  ambrosia  surely  was  beer,  my  boys ! 
He  liked  a  drop  of  good  beer,  my  boys,  hurrah ! 
Tra  la  la,  la  la  la  la  la  la! 

Jore's  ambrosia  was  surely  beer,  my  boys! 
He  lik*d  a  drop  of  good  beer,  my  boys! 
Hurrah!  tra  la  la,  la  la  la  la  la !  tra  la. 

When  dull  care  hangs  over  the  brow. 
What  drives  the  foe  to  distant  scenes  away? 

Can  no  one  say? 
*Tis  that  good  gift  to  man  so  dear, 
l^'is  cheering,  sparkling,  nut-brown  been 

s  2 


276  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

That  Dever  fails  the  heart  to  cheer. 

That  never  feils  the  heart  to  cheer! 

The  good  luck  to  pure  malt  and  hops,  my  boys,  my  boys! 

May  our  fanners  rejoice  in  good  crops,  my  boys,  hurrah ! 

Tra  la  la,  la  la  la  la  la  la  1 

Jove's  ambrosia,  &c. 

Here  is  another  song  from  *<  Martha,"  probably  from  a  different 
libretto.  The  words  are  by  W.  West,  and  the  music  published 
by  Messrs  Ashdown  &  Parry,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  per- 
mission to  reproduce : — 


John  Barleycorn. 

Those  were  the  days,  of  old. 

When  Britain's  sons  so  brave  and  bold. 

Their  noble  hearts  to  cheer, 

Could  quaff  John  Barleycorn  tax  free, 

Scorning  Souchong  and  black  Bohea, 

They'd  drink  of  the  bright,  the  home-brew'd  beer — 

There's  nothing  so  good  the  heart  to  cheer. 

No!  ambrosia  fine  'tis  as  good  as  wine. 

Clear,  strong,  and  richer  than  good  Rhine  wine. 

Hurrah !  nothing  like  beer,  like  old  English  beer,  hurrah  ! 

What  is  it  that  makes  an  Englishman  brave. 

Sooner  than  spirits  that  send  to  the  grave? 

Barley,  drink  divine  I 

Better  than  all  your  meagre  wine, 

Weakening  stuff  your  poor  thin  wine; 

Then  fill  up  a  cup  with  hearty  cheer. 

There's  nothing  like  beer  the  heart  to  cheer. 

No!  ambrosia  fine  'tis  good  as  wine. 

Clear,  strong,  and  richer  than  good  Rhine  wine. 

Hurrah!  nothing  like  beer,  like  old  English  beer,  hurrah! 


General  Songs.  277 

I  can't  say  much  in  favour  of  the  next  modern  producdon, 
though  at  one  time  it  was  a  popular  music  haJl  song  of 
MacLaghlan's.  The  music  is  published  by  Messrs  H.  D' Alcorn 
&  Co.  of  Rathbone  Place : — 


Brrrni  Beek. 

The  subject  of  my  little  song  is  one  I  hold  most  dear, 
It  supports  our  constitution,  and  it  will  for  many  a  year; 
John  Bully  indeed,  would  be  defunct,  or  else  look  very  queer. 
If  Bass  and  Co.  should  cease  to  brew  their  glorious  bitter  beer. 
Allsopp,  Bass,  and  Salt,  they  each  deserve  a  monument. 

So  give  them  while  you're  here ; 
Three  cheers  for  Bass  and  Allsopp  too, 

And  their  glorious  bitter  beer. 

Pve  tasted  hock  and  claret  too,  Madeira  and  Moselle, 
But  not  one  of  those  boshy  wines  revives  this  languid  swell ; 
Of  all  complaints  from  A  to  Z,  the  fact  is  very  clear, 
There's  no  disease  but  what's  been  cured  by  glorious  bitter  beer. 

Allsopp,  Bass,  and  Salt,  &c. 

Tve  lived  in  Scotland  many  years,  and  drank  its  mountain  dew  ; 
I  don't  deny  but  what  it's  good,  and  a  stimulant,  'tis  true; 
I'm  far  from  being  prejudiced,  as  some  may  think,  I  fear. 
Yet  give  to  me  a  cooling  draught  of  glorious  bitter  beer. 

Allsopp,  Bass,  and  Salt,  6cc. 

Old  Ireland's  drink  I  have  imbibed — yes,  Kinnahan*s  double  L. 
And  Kitty  Trainer's  famed  potheen,  and  Dunville's,  too,  as  well ; 
A  glass  of  punch,  of  course,  I  know,  will  oft  your  spirits,  cheer; 
But  still  my  favourite  beverage  is  glorious  bitter  b?er. 

Allsop)),  Bass,  and  Salti  Sec, 


1 78  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

That  ale  is  not  inimical  to  longevity  is  shown  by  the  following 
extract  from  Taylor's  (the  water  poet)  epiuph  on  Old  Parr : — 

**  He  was  of  old  Pythagoras'  opinion. 
That  green  cheese  was  most  wholesome  with  an  onion ; 
Coarse  meslin  bread,  and  for  his  daily  swig. 
Milk,  butter-milk,  and  water,  whey  and  whig: 
Sometimes  metheglin,  and  by  fortune  happy, 
He  sometimes  sipped  a  cup  of  ale  most  nappy. 
Cider  or  perry  when  he  did  repair 
T'  a  Whitsun-ale  wake,  wedding,  or  a  fair; 
Or  when  in  Christmas-time  he  was  a  guest 
At  his  good  landlord's  house  among  the  rest. 
Else  he  had  little  leisure-time  to  waste; 
Or  at  the  ale-house  huff-cup  ale  to  uste." 

The  Cornishmen  come  next  to  Old  Parr  in  living  to  a  re- 
specuble  old  age.  According  to  Burton,  one  Polyen  lived  to 
1 309  a  kinsman  of  his  to  11 2,  and  one  Beauchamp  to  1 06. 
Carey  made  the  following  epitaph  on  a  once  well-known  char- 
acter who  died  m  that  county: — 

**  Here  Brawn,  the  quondam  beggar,  lies. 
Who  counted  by  his  tale 
Some  six  score  winters  and  above — 
Such  virtue  is  in  ale. 

^  Ale  was  his  meat,  his  drink,  his  cloth, 
His  physic  too  besides; 
And  could  he  still  have  drank  his  ale 
Be  sure  he  had  not  dy'd." 

The  next,  which  appeared  in  the  **  Gentleman's  Magazine  " 
of  February  2,  1793,  rather  damns  with  faint  praise: — 

**  Alter  entertainmenu  given  on  some  particular  occasions  near 
the  city  of  Winchester  it  is  customary  to  introduce  a  '  poculum 
caritatis '  filled  with  a  kind  of  beer  called  « Ruff.'     The  origin 


General  Songs.  279 

of  this  name  has  for  years  been  merely  matter  of  conjecture  ;  but 
the  following  verses  will  explain  whence  the  term  is  derived" : — 


EmUUT  FROM  THE   "  ArT  OF  LoXOEvrTY." 

Written  by  Edmund  Gayton,  1659.     Chap,  viii.,  on  ^  Ale. 


»t 


Drink  &nous,  infaroousy  prais'd  and  dispnds'd. 
To  Stygian  lakes,  that's  muddy  harbours  rait'd 
From  common  shores  and  ^ther  Ben's  adventures, 
How  dar'st  thou,  boyled  cogg,  our  muzzles  enter  ? 
But  when  the  keen  cheroketh*  blows  fat  bumpkin, 
Who  will  refuse  to  drink  thee  in  a  rumkin  ?  t 
Enough  is  written  for  thee  fro  and  con.^ 
Yet  since  hops  came  thy  name  is  almost  gone ; 
But  that  the  alderman  hatli  cleansM  thy  tide, 
And  makes  us  with  thee  yet  amongst  us  bide. 
And  Huff  of  famous  memory,  that  Huff 
Who  to  his  ale  had  no  sign  but  his  RuiF; 
That,  and  his  ale  most  smooth,  did  so  well  work 
The  house  was  full  of  Christian  and  of  Turk: 
And  in  demulsing  lubrick  morning's  draught 
A  good  esute  into  old  Huff  was  quafL 
What  is  ale  good  for  ?     Look  against  his  doores, 
And  you  shall  see  them  rotted  with  ale  showers: 
It  hath  this  special  commendation, 
To  cleanse  the  water  and  to  break  the  stone : 
Just  as  a  feather-bed  the  flint  doth  break, 
S'ith  other  stone  your  North  Down  ale  alike. 
Thy  mother  barley  is  an  enemy 
To  th'  nerves,  that  makes  men  stagger  after  thee. 
Drink  beyond  Huff's  demensum,  who  did  stint 
In's  regular  Ruff  his  guests  into  a  pint 
(But  at  one  session),  yet  go  forth,  and  face 
Abount,  and  then  you  might  take  t'other  glass. 

*  Srnrice  wind.  f  In  Norfolk  ^  drinking  gUv, 


28o  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

John   Gay's  ballad  is  probably   one  of  the  best  that  were 
written  during  the  last  century  : — 


Ballad  on  Ale. 

While  some  in  epic  strains  delight. 
Whilst  others  pastorals  invite. 

As  taste  or  whim  prevail; 
Assist  me,  all  ye  tuneful  nine, 
Support  me  in  the  great  design. 

To  sing  of  nappy  ale. 

Some  folks  of  cider  made  a  rout. 
And  cider's  well  enough,  no  doubt, 

When  better  liquors  fail ; 
But  wine,  that's  richer,  better  still, 
Ev'n  wine  itself  (deny't  who  will) 

Must  yield  to  nappy  ale. 

Rum,  brandy,  gin,  with  choicest  smack, 
From  Holland  brought,  Batavia  rack. 

All  these  will  nought  avail 
To  cheer  a  truly  British  heart. 
And  lively  spirits  to  impart. 

Like  humming,  nappy  ale. 

Oh !  whether  thee  I  closely  hug 
In  honest  can  or  nut-brown  jug, 

Or  in  the  tankard  hail; 
lo  barrel  or  in  botde  pent, 
I  give  the  generous  spirit  vent. 

Still  may  I  feast  on  ale. 

But  chief  when  to  the  cheerful  glass. 

From  vessel  pure,  thy  streamlets  pass. 

Then  most  thy  charms  prevail ; 


General  Songs.  281 

ThcDy  then,  Pll  bet,  and  take  tbe  odds. 
That  nectary  drink  of  heathen  gods. 
Was  poor  compr'd  to  ale. 

Give  me  a  bumper,  fill  it  up : 
See  how  it  sparkles  in  the  cup; 

Oh,  how  shall  I  regale  ! 
Can  any  taste  this  drink  divine. 
And  then  compare  rum,  brandy,  wine. 

Or  aught  with  nappy  ale  ? 

Inspir'd  by  thee  the  warrior  fights, 
The  lover  wooes,  the  poet  writes. 

And  pens  the  pleasing  tale; 
And  still  in  Britain's  isle  confesi, 
Nought  animates  the  patriot^s  breast 

Like  generous,  nappy  ale. 

High  Church  and  low  oft  raise  a  strife. 
And  oft  endanger  limb  and  life, 

Each  studious  to  prevail ; 
Yet  Whig  and  Tory,  opposite 
In  all  things  else,  do  both  unite 

In  praise  of  nappy  ale. 

Inspired  by  thee,  shall  Crispin  sing, 
Or  talk  of  firedom,  church,  and  king. 

And  balance  Europe's  scale ; 
While  his  rich  landlord  lays  out  schemes 
Of  wealth  in  golden  South  Sea  dreams, 

Th*  effects  of  nappy  ale. 

O  blest  potation  !  still  by  thee. 
And  thy  companion  Liberty, 

Do  health  and  mirth  prevail; 
Then  let  us  crown  the  can,  the  glass, 
And  sportive  bid  the  minnets  pass 

In  quaffing  nappy  ale. 


282  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

£?'n  while  these  stanzas  I  indite, 
The  bar-bell's  grateful  sounds  invite 

Where  joy  can  never  fail. 
Adieu,  my  muse!  adieu,  I  haste 
To  gratify  my  longing  taste 

With  copious  draughts  of  ale. 

Gay,  in  his  *<  Trivia,  or  the  Art  of  Walking  the  Streets  of 
London  "  (edition  i8i  i),  gives  incidentally  the  following  piece 
of  advice: — 

"  Careful  observers,  studious  of  the  town. 
Shun  the  misfortunes  that  disgrace  the  clown ; 
Untempted,  they  contemn  the  juggler's  feats. 
Pass  by  the  muse,  nor  try  the  cymbal's  cheats: 
When  drays  bound  high,  they  never  cross  behind, 
Where  bubbling  yest  is  blown  by  gusts  of  wind." 

The  following  belongs  to  the  **  Fine  Old  English  Gentleman  " 
style  of  song,  and  shows  the  genial  influence  which  nut-brown  ale 
exerts  over  the  actions  of  a  man's  life : — 

The  Dorsetshire  Squire  ;  or,  A  Mug  of  Nut-brown 

Ale. 
A  wealthy  'squire  in  Dorsetshire 

Enjoyed  the  charms  of  life; 
His  time  was  spent  in  sweet  content, 

He  never  harboured  strife. 
This  happy  'squire  of  DorseUhire 

Lived  in  a  pleasant  vale; 
His  chief  delight,  at  noon  and  night, 

A  mug  of  nut-brown  ale. 

The  wealdiy  'squire  of  Dorsetshire 

Would  Tie'er  the  poor  oppress; 
But  aid  impart,  with  cheerful  heart, 

To  merit  in  distress. 
No  envious  tongue,  with  venom  stung, 

'Gainst  him  did  e'er  prevail ; 


General  Songs.  283 

'Twas  pleasure  rare  with  him  to  share 
A  mug  of  nut-brown  ale. 

This  is  a  far  kindlier  philosophy  than  that  of  the  egotistical 
humbug  who  in?ited  **  John  Brown  to  come  and  take  a  glass  in 
his  arbour  when  he'd  pass,"  but  inflicted  his  crude  platitudes 
upon  John  without  allowing  him  to  get  in  a  word  edgeways. 

Here  are  a  few  short  extracts  from  the  poets: — 

COLEIUDOB. 

Beneath  the  roof,  if  thy  cheered  moments  pass. 
Fill  to  the  good  man's  name  one  grateful  glass: 
To  higher  rest  shall  memory  wake  tlie  soul, 
And  rirtue  mingle  in  the  ennobled  bowl. 

Milton. 
For  many  a  god  o*er  elegy  presides, 
Its  spiriu  kindles,  and  iu  numbers  guides; 
There  Bacchus,  Ceres,  Erato  are  seen 
And,  with  her  beautous  boy,  the  Idalian  queen : 
And  thence  the  chiefs  of  elegiac  song 
Drain  the  full  bowl  and  join  the  jocund  throng. 

Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale : — 

From  "  A  LiTTLB  Wish." 
Grant,  ye  pow'rs,  a  little  wine 
For  a  guest  that  comes  to  dine. 
And  a  stock  of  mild  and  stale. 
Honest  neighbours  to  regale. 
And  October  strong  and  mellow. 
Tubes  and  weed  for  hearty  fellow ; 
This  of  Cestman  moulds  comprest. 
This  of  Brocas  very  best. 

Thomson. 
Nor  wanting  is  the  brown  October^  drawn. 
Mature  and  perfect,  from  his  dark  retreat 
Of  thirty  years  :  and  now  his  honest  front 
Flames  in  the  light  refulgent,  not  afraid 
E'en  with  the  vinejar<ts  best  produce  to  t ie« 


284  In  Praise  (f  Ale. 

Poor  Robin's  Almanack. 

Now  trees  their  leafy  hats  do  bare 
To  reverence  Winter's  silver  hair; 
A  handsome  hostess,  merry  host, 
A  pot  of  ale  now  and  a  toast. 
Tobacco  and  good  coal  fire. 
Are  things  this  season  doth  require. 

Dryden. 

Then  our  age  was  in  its  prime, 
Free  fh>m  rage,  and  free  from  crime, 
A  very  merry,  dancing,  drinking. 
Laughing,  quaffing,  and  unthinking  time. 

So  big  you  look,  though  claret  you  retrench. 
That,  arm'd  with  bottled  ale,  you  huff  the  French. 

The  rich,  tir'd  with  continual  feasts, 
For  change  become  their  next  poor  tenant's  guests. 
Drink  hearty  draughts  of  ale  from  pbin  brown  bowls. 
And  snatch  the  homely  rasher  from  the  coals. 

With  gown  tuck'd  up,  to  wakes,  for  Sunday  next. 
With  humming  ale  encourages  his  texL 


For  'twas  their  duty,  all  the  learned  think, 

T'  espouse  his  cause  by  whom  they  eat  and  drink. 

In  his  sinister  hand,  instead  of  ball, 
He  plac'd  a  mighty  jug  of  potent  ale. 

WiLUAM  King. 

A  cauldron  of  fat  Beef  and  stoop  of  Ale 
On  the  huzzaing  mob  shall  more  prevail. 
Than  if  you  give  them  with  the  nicest  art. 
Ragouts  of  Peacocks'  brains,  or  Filbert  tart. 


General  Songs.  285 

Poole's  Art  of  Brewing. 

The  hints  observed,  once  more  shall  English  ale, 
Nectarious  juice !  with  ^shion's  sons  prevail, 
Strong  beer  its  wonted  excellences  regain, 
Our  art  improve — nor  shall  I  write  in  vain. 

Anon. 

O,  Girzy !  Girzy  !  when  thou  go'st  to  brew, 

Consider  well  what  you're  about  to  do ; 

Be  very  wise,  very  sedately  think. 

That  what  you're  going  now  to  make  is  drink  ; 

Consider  who  must  drink  that  drink,  and  then 

What  'tis  to  have  the  praise  of  honest  men. 

Whom  hath  not  an  inspiring  bumper  taught 
A  flow  of  words,  and  loftiness  of  thought  ? 

Horace  Translation. 

The  fool  sucks  wisdom,  as  he  porter  sups. 
And  cobblers  grow  fine  speakers  in  their  cups. 

Beloe  quotes  the  following  epigram,  which  I  believe  appears  in 
the  Percy  Collection  : — 

Ad  M  Brewer  Meoicum. 
This  phrase,  to  drink  a  health,  is  only  trew 
Of  drink  which  men  of  your  profession  brew. 

Bon  Gaultier. 

And  if  you'd  do  a  kindness  to  your  fond  desponding  child. 
Draw  me  a  pot  of  Beer,  mother,  and,  mother,  draw  it  mild. 

Chaucer. 
And  brought  of  mighty  ale  a  large  quart 

Sam  Butler. 

For  he  by  geometric  scale. 
Could  tell  the  size  of  pots  of  ale. 


286  /»  Praise  of  Ak. 

CONG&ETE. 

Prithee*  fill  me  a  glass 

Till  it  laugh  in  my  face 
Of  ale  that  is  potent  and  mellow ; 

He  that  pines  for  a  lass 

Is  an  ignorant  ass. 
For  a  bumper  has  not  its  fellow. 

Old  BALLAa 

Then  Robin  he  took  the  Bishop  by  the  hand, 
And  led  him  to  merry  Bamsdale ; 

He  made  him  stay  and  sup  with  him  that  night, 
And  to  drink  wine,  beer,  and  ale. 

John  Whalley. 

See  the  gay  Unicom  the  wood  adorn, 
Fair  sign  of  plenty,  with  his  ivory  horn ! 
Here  Ceres  spread  her  fruits  with  lavish  hand, 
And  Bacchus  laughing  waited  our  command. 

Here  cheerful  plenty  met  the  wearied  guest, 
And  splendid  welcome  doubly  crown'd  our  rest. 

Pratt's  Harvest  Home. 

The  life  of  a  sportsman  is  free  from  all  care, 
Whene'er  he  makes  merry  with  love  and  strong  beer; 
With  his  pipe  and  his  friend  he  laughs  hours  away. 
And  sings,  talks,  and  drinks  till  he  hails  a  new  day, 
And  then  to  the  hill  and  the  dale — hark,  away ! 

Swift. 

What  advantage  comes 
To  me  from  all  a  usurer^s  plumbs; 
Though  I  should  see  him  twice  a  day, 
And  am  his  neighbour  cross  the  way, 
If  all  my  rhetoric  must  fail 
To  strike  him  for  a  pot  of  ale? 


General  Songs,  287 

She  (Gluttony)  sent  her  priest  in  wooden  shoes 
From  haughty  Gaul  to  make  ragoos; 
Instead  of  wholesome  bread  and  cheese, 
To  dress  their  soups  and  fricasses; 
And,  for  our  home-bred  British  cheer, 
Botargo,  catsup,  and  caveer. 

FlEUMNG. 

Woman !    What  is  there  in  the  world  like  woman  ! 
Nfan  without  woman  is  a  single  boot, 
Is  half  a  pair  of  shears — Her  wanton  smiles 
Are  sweeter  than  a  draught  of  cool  small  beer 
To  the  scorched  palate  of  a  waking  sot. 

Henry  S.  Lf.igh's  Carols  of  Cockaigne. 

It's  a  singular  fact  that  whenever  I  order 
My  goblet  of  Guiness'  or  bumper  of  Bass, 

Out  of  ten  or  a  dozen  that  sport  round  the  border. 
Some  fly  turns  a  somersault  into  my  glass. 

Oh  !  it's  not  that  I  grudge  him  the  liquor  he's  tasted, 
Supposing  him  partial  to  ale  or  to  stout. 

But  consider  the  time  irretreivably  wasted 
In  trying  to  fish  the  small  wanderer  out. 

Ah,  believe  me,  proud  fly  !   'tis  excessively  sinful. 
This  habit  which  knocks  even  blue-bottles  up. 

Just  remember  what  Cassio,  on  getting  a  skinfiil. 
Observed  about  every  inordinate  cup. 

Reflect  on  that  proverb,  diminutive  being. 
Which  tell  us  <*  Enough's  as  good  as  a  feast," 

And,  mark  me,  there's  nothing  more  painful  as  seeing 
An  insect  behaving  so  much  like  a  beast. 


288  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

Oh  !  WHEN  MY  Farm  is  taken. 

Oh !  when  my  farm  is  taken, 
How  delightful  'twill  be  o*er  my  acres  to  stump! 
Then  I'll  marry  a  dairy-maid,  jolly  and  plump. 
But  she  shan't  be  as  fat  as  my  bacon. 

I'll  hire  a  lout  to  wield  the  flail, 
Small  beer  shall  serve  the  bumpkin! 

While  I  with  guzzling  home-brew'd  ale 
Grow  rounder  than  a  pumpkin. 

Reverting  back  somewhat  we  have  the  following  well-known 
favourite,  which  appeared  in  the  London  Chanticleer  for  1659 : — 

Submit,  Bunch  of  Grapes. 

Submit,  bunch  of  grapes, 

To  the  strong  barley  ear; 
The  weak  wine  no  longer 

The  laurel  shall  wear. 

Sack,  and  all  drinks  else. 

Desist  from  the  strife; 
Ale 's  the  only  aqua  vita. 

And  liquor  of  life. 

Then  come,  my  boon  fellows. 

Let's  drink  it  around ; 
It  keeps  us  from  grave. 

Though  it  lays  us  on  ground. 

Ale 's  a  physician, 

No  mountebank  bragger; 
Can  cure  the  chill  ague. 

Though  it  be  with  the  stagger. 

Ale 's  a  strong  wrestler, 

Kings  all  it  hath  met; 
And  makes  the  ground  slippery, 

Though  it  be  not  wet. 


General  Songs.  289 

Ale  is  both  Ceres, 

And  good  Neptune  too. 
Ale's  froth  was  the  sea 

From  which  Venus  grew. 

Ale  is  immortal; 

And  be  there  no  stops, 
In  bonny  lads  quaffing, 

Can  liye  without  hops. 

Then  come,  my  boon  fellows. 

Let's  drink  it  around; 
It  keeps  us  from  grave, 

Though  it  lays  us  on  ground. 

The  foregoing  collection  of  songs,  ballads,  and  poems,  shows  a 
pretty  hir  consensus  of  opinion  as  to  the  virtues  of  ale  and  beer 
among  the  great  and  gifted  of  many  generations.  By  way  of  relief 
I  will  quote  from  an  old  pamphlet,  intituled,  **  Wine,  Beer,  Ale, 
and  Tobacco  contending  for  Superiority.  A  Dialogue.  HO  RAT 
Siccis  omnia  dura  Dms  Praposuit.  London.  Printed  by  J.  B.  for 
John  Grove,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  betwixt  S.  Katherine's 
Stairs  and  the  Mill,  next  door  to  the  sign  of  the  Ship,  1658." 

The  play  or  mystery  is  a  sort  of  compound  of  miracle-play, 
masque,  and  mumming,  which  so  delighted  our  ancestors.  The 
song  it  winds  up  with  is  far  better  known  than  the  dialogue  itself. 
Certainly  there  is  plenty  of  action,  bustle,  and  impending  fight 
between  the  various  dramatis  person£^  until  IVater  comes  in  and 
happily  ends  all  disputes. 

The  Stationer  to  the  Readers. 

Gentlemen, — for  in  your  drink  you  will  be  no  lest,  Kpresent 
you  with  this  small  collation.  If  either  Wine  and  Sugar,  fieer 
and  Nutmeg,  a  Cup  of  Ale  and  a  Tost,  Tobacco,  or  altogether, 
may  meet  your  acceptation,  I  am  glad  I  had  it  for  you.     There 

T 


290  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

is  a  difference  between  themseWes;  but  your  |>alate  muy  reconcile 
all.  If  anything  diitaste  you,  there  is  water  to  wash  your  hands 
of  the  whole  Pamphlet.  So  hoping  you  will  accept  a  Pledge  of 
my  service,  and  have  a  care  of  your  own  health,  I  beg  me  to 
you. — J.  G. 

The  Speaker  I, 

/fine,  A  Gentleman. 

Sugar,  His  Page. 

Betr,  A  Citizen. 

Nmimeg.  His  Prentice. 

^U,  A  Countryman. 

/#!/.  One  of  his  nirall  Servants. 

H^aier.  A  Parson. 

Tobacco,  A  swaggering  Gentleman. 

WiMEy  Beer,  Ale,  and  Tobacco  contending  for  Supehiority. 

Enter  Beer^  IVine^  and  Sugar, 

IVine.  How,  Beer?  We  are  not  very  good  friends;  no  matter, 
I  scorn  to  avoid  him. 

Beer.  Beer-leave,  sir.  \^  Jostles  IVine, 

IV'ine,  How  now,  Beer,  running  a-tilt,  dost  thou  not  know  mc? 

Beer.  I  do  mean  to  have  tlie  wall  on  you. 

Wme.  The  wall  of  me,  you  would  have  your  head  and  the 
wall  knock'd  together.  Learn  better  manners,  or  I  may  chance  to 
broach  you. 

Beer,  Broach  me,  alas  poor  Wine,  'tis  not  your  Fieri  Facias 
can  make  Beer  afraid,  thy  betters  know  the  strength  of  Beer.  I 
do  not  fear  3rour  colour,  sir. 

Sugar,  So  here  will  be  some  scuffling. 

IVine.  You'll  leave  your  impudence,  and  learn  to  know  your 
superioura,  fioer,  or  I  may  chance  to  have  you  stopped  up. 
What,  never  leave  working?     I  am  none  of  your  fellows. 

Beer,  I  scorn  thou  should^st. 


General  Songs.  291 

fVine.  I  am  a  companion  for  Princes^  the  least  drop  of  my 
blood  is  worth  all  thy  body.  I  am  aent  for  by  the  Citizens, 
visited  by  the  Gallants,  kiss'd  by  the  Gentlewomen.  I  am  their 
life,  their  genius,  the  Poetical!  fury,  the  Helicon  of  the  Muses, 
of  better  value  than  Iker;  I  should  be  sorry  else. 

Beer.  Thou  art  sorry.  Wine,  indeed,  sometimes;  value?  You 
are  come  up  of  late,  men  pay  dear  for  your  company,  and  repent 
it:  that  gives  you  not  the  precedency;  though  Beer  set  not  so 
great  a  price  upon  himself,  he  means  not  to  bate  a  grain  of  his 
worth,  nor  subscribe  to  Wine  for  all  his  braveries. 

fVine,  Not  to  mee  ? 

Beer,  Not  to  you:   why,  whence  come  you,  pray? 

IVtne,  From  France,  from  Spain,  from  Greece. 

Beer.  Thou  art  a  mad  Greek  indeed. 

IVinr.  Where  thou  must  never  hope  to  come :  who  dares  deny 
that  I  have  been  a  traveller? 

Beer.  A  traveller?  in  a  tumbrel,  a  little  Beer  will  go  further; 
why.  Wine,  art  thou  not]  kept  under  lock  and  key,  confin'd  to 
some  comer  of  a  cellar,  and  there  indeed  commonly  close 
prisoner,  unless  the  Jaylor  or  Yeoman  of  the  bottles  turn  the  key 
for  the  chambermaid  now  and  then,  for  which  she  vows  not  to 
leave  him,  till  the  last  gaspe,  where  Beer  goes  abroad,  and 
randesvous  in  every  place  ? 

Enter  Ale, 

Who's  this?  Ale!  oh  for  the  three  men's  song!  this  Ale  is  a 
stout  fellow,  it  shall  go  hard,  but  Sugar  which  makes  all  sweet 
sometimes  shall  set  him  in  his  part  of  the  discord ! 

IVtne.  Come,  come.  Beer,  you  forget  how  long  you  were 
t'other  day ;  provoke  me  not  too  much,  lest  I  bestow  a  firkin  on 
you. 

Beer,  Strike  if  thou  dar'st,  Wine,  I  shall  make  thee  answer  as 
quick  as  the  objection,  and  give  jrou  a  dash. 

AU.  Umph;  what's  this?  it  seems  there's  great  difference 
between  Wine  and  Beer.     Sugar,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Sugar.  Oh  good  man,  Ale,   I'm   glad   you're  come,  here's 

T  2 


292  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

nothing  but  contention :  I  have  gone  betwixt  them  once  01  twice, 
but  I  fear  one  or  both  will  be  spilt 

jlk.  What  do  they  contend  about  ? 

Sugar.  For  that,  which  aught  I  can  apprehend,  belongs  as 
much  to  you  as  either  of  them. 

Jle,  Hah  !  to  me  !  what's  that? 

Sugar,  Ale  by  judicious  men  hath  been  held  no  despicable 
drink>  for  my  own  part  it  is  nothing  to  me:  you  are  all  one  to 
Sugar,  whosoever  be  King,  Sugar  can  be  a  subject,  but  yet  'twere 
fit  Ale  had  his  measure. 

jlle.  Are  they  so  proud  ? 

Sugar,  They  mind  not  you  as  if  you  were  too  unworthy  a 
Competitor.     See  'tis  come  to  a  challenge. 

\JVtne  throws  down  the  glove,  which  Beer  takes  up. 

Ale.  Leave  your  railing,  and  attend  to  my  reasons,  1  claim 
your  duties  to  me,  for  many  prerogatives:  my  antiquity,  my 
riches,  my  learning,  my  strength,  my  gravity. 

Wine,  Antiquity !  your  first  reason's  a  very  small  one. 

Ale,  Dare  any  of  you  deny  my  antiquity  \  I  say. 

Wine,  We  must  bear  with  him,  'tis  in  his  Ale. 

Ale,  It  only  pleads  for  me :  who  hath  not  heard  of  the  old 
Ale  of  England  ? 

Beer,  Old  Ale;  oh,  there  'tis  grown  to  a  proverb,  Jones* 
Ale 's  new. 

Ale,  These  are  trifles,  and  convince  me  not. 

Wine,  If  we  should  grant  your  argument,  you  would  gain  little 
by't,  go  together,  I  do  allow  you  both  a  couple  of  stale  companions. 

Beer,  Wine,  you're  very  harsh. 

Ale,  Let  him;  my  second  prerogative  is  my  riches  and 
possessions,  for  who  knows  not  how  many  houses  I  have.  Wine 
and  Beer  are  fiiin  to  take  up  a  comer,  your  ambition  goes  no 
further  than  a  cellar,  where  the  whole  house  where  I  am  is  mine, 
goes  only  by  my  name,  is  call'd  an  Ale-house  \  but  when  is  either 
heard,  the  Wine-house  or  the  Beer-house  \  You  cannot  passe  a 
street,  wherein  I  have  not  houses  of  my  own,  beside  many  that  go 
by  other  men's  names. 


General  Songs.  293 

Beer.  I  confesse  you  have  here  and  there  an  alehouse,  but 
whose  are  all  the  rest  ?     Hath  not  Beer  as  much  title  to  them  ? 

IVtne,  And  yet  I  have  not  heard  that  either  of  you  both 
have  fin'd  for  Aldermen,  though  I  confess  that  something  has  bin 
attempted  out  of  Nicker  Froth.  Be  rul'd  by  nie,  Beer  and  Ale, 
and  aspire  no  higher  then  the  common-Councel-houses.  Oh 
impudence,  that  either  of  you  should  talk  of  houses,  when  some- 
times you  are  both  glad  of  a  tub :  dee  hear,  Ale  ?  do  not  yoa 
know  the  man  that  did  the  bottle  bring  ? 

Ale.  Thou  art  glad  of  a  bottle  thyself,  Wine,  sometimes; 
and  so  is  Beer  too,  for  all  he  frothes  now. 

Beer,  So,  so. 

Ale.  My  third  prerogative  is  my  learning. 

IVme.  Learning  ?  If  you  have  the  Liberal  Sciences,  pray  be 
free  and  let's  hear  some. 

Ale.  For  that,  though  I  could  give  you  demonstration,  for 
brevitie's  sake,  I  remit  you  to  my  books. 

Beer,  Books!  Printed  Cum  Privlleglo  no  doubt  on't,  and 
sold  by  the  Company  of  Stationers !     What  are  the  names  ? 

Ale.  Admire  me  though  when  I  name  learned,  though  not 
the  great,  Alexander  Ale  and  Tostatus  the  Jesuite. 

IVine.  Oh,  learned  Ale,  you  scorn  to  make  Indentures  any 
more,  but  you  might  as  well  have  concluded  this  without  book. 

Beer,  Why,  you  will  shortly  be  Town-Clerk,  the  City 
Chronicler  is  too  mean  a  place  for  you. 

Ale.  Now  for  my  strength  and  invincibilitie. 

Beer.  But  here  let  me  interrupt  you,  talk  no  more  of  strength, 
none  but  Beer  deserves  to  bee  calPd  strong  ;  no  pen  is  able  to  set 
down  my  victories. 

[This  tall  talk  goes  on  for  about  twelve  pages,  when  matters 
become  serious,  j 

AU.  Is  Wine  drawn  ?  Then  have  at  you ;  I'll  make  good 
Ale. 

Beer,  I  stand  for  the  honour  of  Beer,  were  you  an  army. 

[-///  they  nffinr  tojight^  Waier  comes  running  in, 

IVater,  Hold,  hold,  hold.     I  know  your  ambition,  you  are  all 


294  J^  Praise  of  Ale, 

my  kinsmen,  and  the  care  of  thy  preservation  made  me  break  my 
banks  to  come  to  you.  WiJ]  you  refer  yourselves  to  me  and 
wade  no  further  in  these  discontentments  ?  I  will  undertake 
your  reconcilement  and  qualifications. 

All.  Agreed. 

Waier.  Then,  without  further  circumlocution  or  inanuation. 
Water  runs  to  the  matter :  You  shall  no  more  contend  for  excel- 
lencies for  Water  shall  allow  each  of  you  a  Singularitie.  First, 
you,  Wine,  shall  be  most  in  request  amongst  Courtiers,  Gallants, 
Gentlemen,  Poetical  Wits,  Qyii  mehons  lutid  homines^  being  fare- 
fined  mould,  shall  chuse  as  a  more  nimble  and  active  watering  to 
make  their  brains  fruitful.  Fecvndi  Calces  quern  non  ?  but  so  as 
not  confin'd  to  them,  not  limiting  them  to  you  more  then  to  ex- 
hilarate their  spirits  and  acuate  their  inventions. 

You,  Beer,  shall  be  in  most  grace  with  the  Citizens,  as  being  a 
more  staied  liquor  fit  for  tliem  that  purpose  retirement  and  gravitie, 
that,  with  the  snail,  carries  the  care  of  a  house  and  family  with 
them,  tied  to  the  attendance  of  an  illiberal  profession,  that  neither 
trot  nor  amble,  but  have  a  sure  pace  of  their  own.  Bos  lassus 
fortius  fg'it  pedem.  The  black  ox  hath  trod  upon  their  foot. 
Yet,  I  bound  you  not  with  the  citie,  though  it  be  the  common 
entertainment,  you  may  be  in  credit  with  gentlemen's  cellars  and 
carry  reputation  before  you  from  March  to  Christmas-tide,  I 
should  say,  that  Water  should  forget  his  tide. 

You,  Ale,  I  remit  to  the  country  as  being  more  fit  to  live 
where  you  were  bred.  Your  credit  shall  not  be  inferior,  for 
people  of  all  sorts  shall  desire  your  acquaintance,  specially  in  the 
morning,  though  you  may  be  allowed  the  day  after.  The  parson 
shall  account  you  one  of  his  best  parishioners,  and  the  Church- 
wardens shall  pay  for  your  company,  and,  drawing  their  bills  all 
the  year  long,  you  shall  be  loved  and  maintained  at  the  parish 
charge  'till  you  be  old,  be  allowed  a  Robin  Hood  for  Mother  Red 
Cap  to  hang  at  your  door  to  beckon  in  customers ;  and  if  you 
come  into  the  citie,  you  may  be  drunk  with  pleasure,  but  never 
come  into  the  fiishion.  At  all  times  you  shall  have  respect,  but 
in  the  winter  morning  without  comparison.  How  do  you  like 
my  censure  now ! 


General  Songs.  295 

M,  Water  has  deep  judgment. 

IVater,  And  yet  the  world  saies  sometimes  Water  is  shallow. 
Nay,  ril  see  you  shake  hands  and  tie  a  new  knot  of  friendship. 

jile.  We  are  henceforth  brothers.     Stay !  [Musick, 

Hark,  Musick !  Oh,  some  friends  of  Wine,  I  know  'em  ; 
they  often  come  upon  the  Water :  let's  entertain  the  Ayr  a  little, 
never  a  voice  among  you  ? 


The  Song. 

IVlne,         I,  jovial  Wine,  exhilarate  the  heart, 
Beer.  March  Beer  is  drink  for  a  king ; 

jlle.  But  Ale,  bonny  Ale,  with  spice  and  a  toast 

In  the  morning's  a  dainty  thing. 

Chorut — Then  let  us  be  merry,  wash  sorrow  away, 

Wine,  Beer,  and  Ale  shall  be  dnink  to-day. 

JVine,         I,  generous  Wine,  am  for  the  court — 
Berr,  The  citic  calls  for  Beer  ; 

/lie.  But  Ale,  bonny  Ale,  like  a  lord  of  the  soyl. 

In  the  country  shall  domineer. 

Chorus — Then  let  us  be  merry,  wash  sorrow  away. 

Wine,  Boer,  and  Ale  shall  be  drunk  to-day. 

IVater.  Why,  now  could  I  dance  for  joy. 

jlle.  Now  you  talk  of  dancing,  Wine,  'tis  one  of  your 
qualities ;  let's  pay  the  musicians  all  together.  We  have  often 
made  other  men  have  light  heads  and  heels,  there's  no  hurt  a  little 
in  tripping. 

[The  eternal  friendship  and  harmony  thus  commenced,  continues 
until  Tobacco  enters  and  claims  superiority  of  all,  and  a  wordy 
war  ensues,  in  the  course  of  which  the  old  military  drill  of 
loading  a  pipe  is  gone  through.] 


296  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

jtU.  I  remember  I  have  heard  him  reported  a  souldier ;  and 
once  being  in  company  with  a  knap-jack  man,  a  companion  of  his, 
I  obtained  a  copic  of  his  military  postures,  which  put  down  the 
pike  and  pot-gun  clean.     Pray  observe  'em : — 

1.  Take  out  your  seal. 

2.  Draw  your  box. 

3.  Uncase  your  pipe. 

4.  Produce  your  rammer. 

5.  Blow  your  pipe. 

6.  Open  3rour  box. 

7.  Fill  your  pipe. 

8.  Ramme  your  pipe. 

9.  Withdraw  your  rammer, 
la  Return  your  rammer. 

1 1 .  Make  ready. 

12.  Present 

1 3.  Elbow  your  pipe. 

1 4.  Mouth  your  pipe. 

1 5.  Give  fire. 

1 6.  Nose  your  tobacco. 

1 7.  Puflfe  up  your  smoke. 

1 8.  Spit  on  your  right  hand. 

1 9.  Throw  off  your  loose  ashes. 

20.  Present  to  your  friend. 

21.  As  you  were. 

22.  Cleanse  your  pipe. 

23.  Blow  your  pipe. 

24.  Supply  your  pipe. 

TtAacco,  These  are  but  childish  amusements. 

IVtne,  This  ruffler  may  be  troublesome,  we  were  best  admit 
him  to  our  society,  he  is  a  dry  companion,  and  you  may  observe 
how  he  hath  insinuated  already  with  the  greatest.  The  ladies 
begin  to  affect  him,  and  he  receives  private/avours  from  their  lips, 
every  day  he  kisseth  their  hands,  when  he  appears  in  a  fair  pipe  ; 
though  we  allow  him  not  a  prioritie,  for  our  own  sakes,  let  us  hold 


General  Songs.  297 

correspoDdence  with  him,  lest  he  seduce  men  to  forsake  us,  or  at 
least  to  make  use  of  us  but  for  necessity. 

jl/e.  Hum  1  he  saies  well,  now  I  better  consider  'twere  safest 
to  use  him  kindly,  least  by  degrees  he  overthrow  us  and  jet  upon 
our  privileges ;  for  I  heard  a  gentleman  t'other  day  afBrm,  he  had 
fasted  three  or  four  daies  onely  with  Tobacco. 

IVmt,  Beside,  if  we  continue  friends,  he  will  be  a  preparative 
for  our  reception ;  without  us  he  may  subsist,  but  with  him  we 
are  sure  of  a  liberal  entertainment. 

Beer.  I  am  converted ;  Wine,  you  are  the  best  orator,  speak 
for  us. 

IVinr.  Tobacco,  you  are  a  good  fellow,  all  ambition  laid 
aside,  let  us  embrace  as  friends ;  excuse  us  that  we  have  been  a 
little  merry  with  you,  we  acknowledge  you  a  gentele  drink, 
and  you  shall  have  all  the  respect  will  become  Wine,  Beer,  or 
Ale,  to  observe  you  with :  what  should  we  contend  for  premacie, 
quarrel  about  titles,  which,  if  to  any,  we  acknowledge  most 
properly  belongs  to  you,  for  they  are  all  but  smoke.  Let  us 
unite  the  confederate  states,  for  the  benefits  of  men's  low 
countries,  live  and  love  together.  Wine  doth  here  enter  into 
league  with  Tobacco. 

Beer,  And  Beer. 

y1/e.  And  Ale. 

Tdbacco,  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  Why,  then,  Tobacco  is  so  far 
from  pride  that  he  vows  to  serve  you  all ;  and  when  I  leave  to  be 
a  true  friend  may  fire  consume  me  and  my  ashes  want  a  burial. 

W,^  i?.,  A.  And  when  we  falsi6e  may  thunders  strike  us 
dead.  \T^  dance* 

In  which.  Wine  falling  down,  one  taketh  Sugar  by  the  heels 

and  seems  to  shake  him  upon  Wine. 
In  the  second  passage  Beer  falleth,  and  two  take  Nutmeg,  and, 

as  it  were,  grate  him  over  Beer. 
In  the  third.  Ale  falleth,  one  bringeth  in  a  chafendish  of  coals, 

and  another  causes  Tost  to  put  his  touch  to  it,  afterwards 

it  is  clap't  to  Ale's  mouth,  and  the  dance  concludeth. 

Finis. 


298  /;;  Praise  of  Ale. 

As  a  specimen  of  by-gone  humour  the  foregoing  is  noteworthy 
as  a  literary  curiosity.  There  is  a  marked  similarity  in  many 
passages  between  this  dialogue  and  the  one  between  Claret  and 
Darbie  Ale.  It  would  appear  that  the  bond  of  fiiendly  alliance 
between  these  erstwhile  belligerent  rivals  has  been  well  maintained 
e?er  since. 

The  Happy  Fellow. 
From  the  Britub  Orpheus, 

With  my  jug  in  one  hand,  and  my  pipe  in  the  other, 

I  drink  to  my  neighbour  and  friend ; 
My  cares  in  a  whifF  of  tobacco  I  smother. 

For  life,  I  know,  shortly  must  end. 
While  Ceres,  most  kindly,  refills  my  brown  jug. 

With  good  ale,  I  will  miake  myself  mellow ; 
In  my  old  wicker  chair,  I  will  seat  myself  snug, 

I  jke  n  jolly  and  true  happy  fellow. 

Like  a  jolly,  like  a  jolly,   like  a  jolly  and   true 
happy  fellow. 

ril  ne'er  trouble  my  head  with  the  cares  of  the  nation, 

My  own  being  all  I  need  mind, 
For  the  cares  of  this  life  are  but  grief  and  vexation, 

To  death  we  must  all  be  consigned. 
Then  I'll  laugh,  drink,  and  smoke,  and  leave  nothing  to  pay. 

But  drop,  like  a  pear  that  is  mellow. 
And,  when  cold  in  my  coffin,  Til  leave  them  to  say, 

"  He's  gone !     What  a  hearty  good  fellow ! " 

A  pipe  is  usually  the  complement  of  a  pot,  and  tempts  one  to 
be  discursive,  so  I  will  conclude  this  long  chapter.  The  first  I 
quote  first  appeared,  as  &r  as  I  can  trace,  in  Dodsley's  collection, 
but  I  am  quoting  from  a  work  dated  1 789,  which  was  specially 
compiled  to  elevate  the  poetical  taste  of  the  young  ladies  of  the 
period,*  and  to  **make  them  acquainted  with  the  force  and  beauty 


General  Songs.  299 

of  their   language."     Ccrtes   there   is   plenty  of  force   in    the 
passages  we  have  excised: — 

Boy !  bring  an  ounce  of  Freeman's  best. 

And  bid  the  vicar  be  my  guest: 

Let  all  be  plac'd  in  manner  due, 

A  pot  wherein  to  spit  or  spue, 

And  "  London  Journal "  and  •*  Free  Briton," 

Of  use  to  light  a  pipe. 

a  •  •  .  • 

Come,  jovial  pipe,  and  bring  along 
Midnight  revelry  and  song; 
The  merry  catch,  the  nnadrigal, 
That  echoes  sweet  in  City  Hall ; 
The  parson's  pun,  the  smutty  tnic 
Of  country  justice  o'er  his  ale. 
I  ask  not  what  the  French  are  doing, 
Or  Spain  to  compass  Britain's  ruin: 
Britons,  if  undone,  can  go 
Where  tobacco  loves  to  grow. 

British  sons  no  longer  now 
Hurl  the  bar  or  twang  the  bow, 
Nor  of  crimson  combat  think. 
But  securely  smoke  and  drink. 

O  thou,  matur'd  by  glad  Hesperian  suns, 
Tobacco,  fountain  pure  of  limpid  truth 
That  looks  the  very  soul;  whence  pouring  thought 
Swarms  all  the  mind ;  absorpt  is  yellow  care, 
And  at  each  puff  imagination  bums: 
Flash  on  thy  bard,  and  with  exulting  fires 
Touch  the  mysterious  lips  that  chaunt  thy  praise 
In  strains  to  nwrtal  sons  of  earth  unknown. 
Behold  an  engine  wrought  from  tawny  mines 
Of  ductile  clay,  with  plastic  virtue  formed. 


300  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  glaz'd  magnific  o'er,  I  grasp,  I  fill 
From  Pactotheke  with  pungent  powers  perfum'd. 
Itaelf  one  tortoise  all,  where  shines  imbib'd 
Each  parent  ray;  then  rudely  ramm'd  illumine, 
With  the  red  touch  of  zeal  enkindling  sheet, 
Mark'd  with  Gibsonian  love ;  forth  issue  clouds, 
Thought-thrilling,  thirst-inciting  clouds  around. 
And  many  mining  fires;  I  all  the  while. 
Lolling  at  ease,  inhale  the  breezy  balm. 
But  chief,  when  Bacchus  went  with  thee  to  join, 
In  genial  strife  and  orthodoxal  ale. 
Stream  life  and  joy  into  the  muse's  bowl. 
Oh,  be  thou  still  my  great  inspirer,  thou 
My  muse;  oh,  fan  me  with  thy  zephyr's  boon, 
While  I,  in  clouded  tabernacle  shrin'd, 
Burst  forth  all  oracle  and  mystic  song. 

The  pot  is  never  perfect  without  its  companion  the  pipe,  so 
here  goes  for 

A  Pot  and  a  Pip£  of  Tobacco. 

Some  praise  taking  snuff. 

And  'tis  pleasant  enough 
To  those  who  have  got  the  right  knack,  O  ! 

But  give  me,  my  boys, 

Those  exquisite  joys, 
A  pot  and  a  pipe  of  tobacco. 

When  fume  follows  fume 

To  the  top  of  the  room. 
In  circles  pursuing  their  track,  O ! 

How  sweet  to  inhale 

The  health-giving  gale 
Of  a  pipe  of  Virginian  tobacco. 


General  Songs.  30 1 

Let  soldiers  so  bold, 

For  fame  or  for  gold, 
Their  eoemies  cut,  slash,  and  hack,  O ! 

We  have  fire  and  smoke, 

Though  all  but  in  joke. 
In  a  peaceable  pipe  of  tobacco. 

Should  a  mi8tr>iS8  unkind 

Be  inconstant  in  mind, 
And  on  your  affections  look  black,  O ! 

Let  her  wherrit  and  tiff, 

'Twill  blow  off  in  a  whiff, 
If  you  take  but  a  pipe  of  tobacca 

The  miserly  elf, 

Who,  in  hoarding  his  pelf, 
Keeps  body  and  soul  on  the  rack,  O ! 

Would  he  bless  and  be  blest, 

He  might  open  his  chest. 
By  taking  a  pii)e  of  tobacco. 

Politicians  so  wise, 

All  ears  and  all  eyes, 
For  news  'till  their  addled  pates  crack,  O ! 

After  puzzling  their  brains. 

Will  not  get  for  their  pains 
The  worth  of  a  pipe  of  tobacco. 

If  your  land  in  the  claw 

Of  the  limb  of  the  law 
You  trust,  or  your  health  to  the  quack,  O ! 

'Tis  fifty  to  one 

They're  both  as  soon  done 
As  you'd  puff  out  a  pipe  of  tobacco. 


302  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Life'a  short  'tis  agreed — 

So  we'll  try  from  the  weed 
Of  man  a  brief  cmbleni  to  tack,  O ! 

When  his  ^irit  ascends 

Die  he  must — and  he  ends 
In  dust,  like  a  pipe  of  tobacco ! 

Before  taking  leave  of  tobacco,  I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting 
tlie  exquisite  allegory,  written  by  the  Rev.  Ralph  Erskine.  The 
first  part  is  an  adaptation  of  an  old  meditation  upon  smoking,  and 
the  second  an  addition  or  improvement  thereon. 

Part  I. 


^f^ 


This  Indian  weed,  now  wither'd  quite, 
Though  green  at  noon,  cut  down  at  night. 

Shows  thy  decay ; 

All  flesh  is  hay. 
Thus  think,  and  smoke  tobacco. 

The  pipe  so  lily-like  and  weak, 
Does  thus  thy  mortal  state  bespeak, 

Thou  art  e'en  such, 

Gone  with  a  touch. 
Thus  think,  and  smoke  tobacco. 

And  when  the  smoke  ascends  on  high. 
Then  thou  behold'st  the  vanity 

Of  worldly  stuff. 

Gone  with  a  puff. 
Thus  think,  and  smoke  tobacco. 

And  when  the  pipe  grows  foul  within, 
Think  on  thy  soul  defiled  with  sin  ; 

For  then  the  fire 

It  does  require. 
Thus  think,  and  snK)ke  tobacco. 


General  Songs.  303 

And  seetft  the  aBhes  cast  away  ; 
Then  to  thy  iielf  thou  niayest  miy: 

That  to  the  dust 

Return  thou  must. 
Thus  think,  and  smoke  tobacco. 

Part  II. 

Was  tills  small  plant  for  thee  cut  down  f 
So  was  the  plant  of  great  renown. 

Which  mercy  send* 

For  nobler  ends. 
Thus  think,  and  smoke  tobacco. 

Doth  juice  medicinal  proceed 
From  such  a  naughty  foreign  weed  ? 

Then  wliat's  the  power 

Of  Jesse's  flower  ? 
I'huB  think,  and  smoke  tobacco. 

The  promise,  like  the  pipe,  inlays 
And  by  the  mouth  of  faith  conveys 

What  virtue  flows 

From  Sharon's  rose. 
Thus  think,  and  smoke  tobacco. 

In  vain  th'  unlighted  pipe  you  blow; 
Your  pains  in  outward  means  are  so, 

'Till  heavenly  fire 

The  heart  inspire. 
Thus  think,  and  snx>ke  tobacco. 

The  smoke,  like  burning  incense,  towers, 
So  should  a  praying  heart  of  yours. 

With  ardent  cries, 

Surnx>unt  the  skies. 
Thus  think,  and  smoke  tobacco 


304 


CHAPTER   IX. 

BARLEY  AND  MALT. 

"  Sir  John  Barleycorn  was  the  strongest  inightj 

"  John  BarUycom^s  a  wholesome  blade^ 
IVhom  people  tipple  gaily; 
And  Vulcan* s  sons  and  every  trade^ 
Their  homage  pay  him  daily,** 

I  CANNOT  do  better  than  commence  this  chapter  under  the  influence 
of  a  modem  glee,  which  goes  to  an  inspiriting  tune.  The  song  is 
so  well-known  that  most  readers  will  job  in  the  air  and  chorus. 
I  am  indebted  to  the  courtesy  of  Messrs  Novello,  Ewer  &  Co. 
for  permission  to  reprint.  The  music  is  by  E.  Stirling,  and  the 
words  are  initialled  A,  T. : — 

"  Come  out,  'tis  now  September, 
The  hunter's  moon  begun, 
And  through  the  wheaten  stubble. 

Is  heard  the  frequent  gun. 
The  leaves  are  paling  yellow, 

Or  kindling  into  red. 
And  the  ripe  and  golden  Barley, 
Is  hanging  down  its  head. 
All  among  the  barley, 

Who  would  not  be  blithe. 
When  the*free  and  happy  barley. 
Is  smiling  on  the  scythe. 


Barley  and  Malt.  305 

The  Spring,  she  is  a  young  maid. 

That  does  not  know  her  mind. 
The  Summer  is  a  tyrant 

Of  most  unrighteous  kind. 
The  Autumn  is  an  old  friend. 

That  loves  one  all  he  can. 
And  that  brings  the  happy  Barley 

To  glad  the  heart  of  man. 
All  among,  &c. 

The  Wheat  is  like  a  rich  man. 

That's  sleek  and  well  to  do, 
The  Oats  are  like  a  pack  of  girls. 

Laughing  and  dancing  too. 
The  Rye  is  like  a  miser, 

That's  sulky,  lean,  and  small. 
But  the  free  and  bearded  Barley 

Is  the  monarch  of  them  all. 
All  among,  &c. 

There  is  certainly  something  enlivening  and  cheerful  in  the 
rustle  of  the  ripened  barley  that  other  fields  of  golden  grain 
do  not  impart  to  the  same  extent,  harvest  bugs  notwithstanding, 
for  those  pests  certainly  do  infest  the  bearded  barley  more  than 
any  other  grain ;  but  this  is  an  incident  only.  Thomson  puts 
this  sentiment  neatly: — 

"  The  rural  youth  and  virgins  o'er  the  field. 
Each  fond  for  each  to  cull  the  Autumnal  prime. 
Exulting  rove,  and  speak  the  vintage  nigh. 
Then  comes  the  crushing  swain;  the  country  floats. 
And  foams  unbounded  with  the  washy  flood; 
That  by  degrees  fermented,  and  refined, 
Round  the  raised  nations  pours  the  cup  of  joy." 

Our  Saxon  ancestors,  says  Verstegan,  called  September  ^  Gent'* 
Monai,  for  that  barley  which  that  moneth  commonly  yeelded  was 
antiently  called  gersty  the  name  of  barley  being  given  unto  it  by 

u 


3o6  In  Praise  oj  Ale. 

reason  of  the  drinke  therewith  made,  called  beere,  and  from 
hterlegh  it  came  to  be  herkghy  and  from  herleg  to  barley.  So  in 
like  manner  htereheym^  xo  wit,  the  overdecking  or  covering  of 
heere^  came  to  be  called  herham^  and  afterwards  barme^  having 
since  gotten  I  wot  not  how  many  names  besides.  .  .  .  This 
excellent  and  healthsome  liqour,  beere,  antiently  also  called  ael^ 
as  of  the  Danes  it  yet  is  (beere  and  ale  being  in  effect  all  one), 
was  first  of  the  Germans  invented,  and  brought  in  use." 

Of  the  medicinal  virtues  of  barley,  let  us  take  Old  Culpepper, 
herbalist  and  astrologer. 

*<  The  continual  usefulness  of  barley  hath  made  all  in  general 
so  acquainted  herewith,  that  it  is  altogether  needless  to  describe 
its  several  kinds  hereof  plentifully  growing,  being  yearly  sown  in 
this  land.     The  virtues  whereof  take  as  followeth: — 

"  Government  ami  Ftrtuei. — It  is  a  notable  plant  of  Saturn  ;  if 

you  view  diligently  its  effect  by  sympathy  and  antipathy,  you  may 

easily  perceive  a  reason  of  them,  as  also  why  barley  bread  is  so 

unwholesome  to  melancholy  people.     Barley,  in  all  the  parts  and 

compositions  thereof  (except  malt),  is  more  cooling  than  wheat, 

and  a  little  cleansing.     And  all  the  preparations  thereof,  as  barley 

water  and  other  things  made  thereof,  do  give  great  nourishment 

r*  ^         c-        I  *o  persons  troubled  with  fevers. 

Fevers^  JlFuei^  Stomachy  '^  , ,         .     ,  , 

r  .    .1  r  jf  agues,  and  heats  m  the  stomach. 

Impost bumei,     Inflama"  ?       i  •  i     n     i  • 

^.        d  A  poultice  made  of  barley  meal. 
tum^  Spleen.  *1        .    ••  j  .       .  J 

or  Dour,  boued  m  vmegar  and 

honey,  and  a  few  dry  figs  put  into  them,  dtssolvcth  all  hard 

imposthumes,  and  assuageth  inflammations,  being  thereto  applied. 

And  being  boiled  with  melilot  and  camomile  flowers  and  some 

linseed,  fenugreek  and  rue  in  powder,  and  applied  warm,  it  easeth 

pains  in  side  and  stomach,  and  windiness  of  the  spleen.     The 

meal  of  barley  and  fleawort  boiled  in  water,  and  made  a  poultice 

r«  'Ti     M      XT  L  ^ith   honey  and  oil  of  lilies 

Eari^     Throaty     Neck^  r  j  .  n- 

Km^,   Evil,    Lepro^,        W''"!  warn,,  cureth  swellings 
Flu^,  Goui,  luh,  E,e..  •"'*!",^«=  ears,  throat,  neck,  and 

such  like ;  and  a  plaister  made 

thereof  with  tar,  wax,  and  oil,  helpeth  the  king's  evil  in  the  throat ; 
boiled  with  sharp  vinegar  into  a  poultice,  and  laid  on  hot,  helpeth 


Barley  and  Malt.  307 

the  leprosy ;  being  boiled  in  red  wine  with  pomegranate  rinds,  and 
myrtles,  stayeth  the  lask  or  other  flux  of  the  belly ;  boiled  with 
vinegar  and  quince  it  easeth  the  pains  of  the  gout ;  barley  flower, 
white  salt,  honey,  and  vinegar,  mingled  together,  taketh  away  the 
itch  speedily  and  certainly.  The  water  distilled  from  the  green 
barley  in  the  end  of  May  is  very  good  for  those  that  have 
defluctions  of  humours  fallen  into  their  eyes,  and  easeth  the  pain, 
being  dropped  into  them;  or  white  bread  steeped  therein,  and 
bound  on  to  the  eyes,  doth  the  same." 

From  Culpepper's  Pharmacopoeia  to  Punch's  Modem  Cookery 
Book  is  a  leap  or  bound,  but  these  two  great  authorities  unite  in 
praising  the  virtues  of  the  simple  grain : — 

Air— O/i  the  Banks  of  Allan  Water. 

For  a  jug  of  Barley  Water 

Take  a  sauce  pan  not  too  small ; 
Give  it  to  your  wife  or  daughter. 

If  within  your  call. 
If  her  duty  you  have  taught  her. 

Very  willing  each  will  be 
To  prepare  some  Barley  Water 

Cheerfiilly  for  thee. 

For  a  jug  of  Barley  Water, 

Half  a  gallon,  less  or  more. 
From  the  filter  that  you  bought  her. 

Ask  your  wife  to  pour. 
When  a  saucepan  you  have  brought  her, 

Polish'd  bright,  as  bright  can  be. 
In  it  empty  all  the  water — 

Either  you  or  she. 

For  your  jug  of  Barley  Water 
('Tis  a  drink  by  no  means  bad). 

Some  two  ounces  and  a  quarter 
Of  pearl  barley  add. 

u  2 


3o8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

When  'tis  boiling,  let  your  daughter 
Skim  from  blacks  to  keep  it  free ; 

Added  to  your  Barley  Water 
Lemon-rind  should  be. 


For  your  jug  of  Barley  Water 

(I  have  made  it  very  oft'), 
It  must  boil,  so  tell  your  daughter. 

Till  the  barley's  soft. 
Juice  of  a  small  lemon's  quarter 

Add,  then  sweeten  all  like  tea. 
Strain  through  sieve  your  Barley  Water, 

'Twill  delicious  be. 

The  next  is  a  variation  of  the  same  theme: — 

Barley  Broth. 
Air — The  Klng^  Goil  blett  htm, 

A  basin  of  Barley  broth,  make,  make  for  mc ; 

Give  those  who  prefer  it  the  plain : 
No  matter  the  broth,  so  of  barley  it  be. 

If  we  ne'er  taste  a  basin  again. 
For,  oh !  when  three  pounds  of  good  mutton  you  boy, 

And  of  most  of  its  hi  dispossess  it ; 
In  a  stewpan  uncovered,  at  first,  let  it  lie, 

Then  in  water  proceed  to  dress  it. 
Hurrah  !  Hurrah !  Hurrah  ! 
In  a  stewpan  uncover'd,  at  first,  let  it  lie. 

Then  in  water  proceed  to  dress  it 

What  a  tea-cup  will  hold — you  should  first  have  been  told- 

Of  barley  you  gently  should  boil ; 
The  pearl-barley  choose — 'tis  the  nicest  that's  sold — 

All  others  the  mixture  might  spoil. 


Barley  and  Malt,  309 

or  carrots  and  turnips,  small  onions,  green  peas, 
(If  the  price  of  the  last  don't  distress  one), 

Mix  plenty ;  and  boil  altogether  with  these 
Your  basin  of  broth  when  you  dress  one. 
Hurrah  !  Hurrah  !  Hurrah ! 

Two  hours  together  the  articles  boil. 

There's  your  basin  of  broth,  if  you'd  dress  one. 

The  above  aongs  cannot  be  objected  to  by  the  most  rigid 
abstainer;  they  combine  the  utile  et  dulce^  the  poetical  and  practical. 
To  a  certain  extent  the  following  does  also: — 


Bannocks  o'  Barley  Meau 

Argylc  is  my  name,  and  you  may  think  it  strange. 
To  live  at  a  court  and  never  to  change; 
All  falsehood  and  flattery  I  do  disdain. 
In  my  secret  thoughts  no  guile  does  remain. 
My  king  and  my  country's  foes  I  have  fac'd, 
In  city  or  battle  I  ne'er  was  disgrac'd ; 
I've  done  what  I  could  for  my  country's  weel, 
Now  I'll  feast  upon  bannocks  o'  barley  meal. 

Adieu  to  the  courts  of  gay  London  town, 
For  to  my  ain  country  I  will  gang  down ; 
At  the  sight  o'  Kirkcaldy  once  again, 
I'll  cock  up  my  bonnet  and  march  amain. 
O  the  muckle  deil  tak'  a'  your  noise  and  strife, 
I'm  fully  resolv'd  for  a  country  life, 
Where  a*  the  braw  lassies  that  kens  me  weel. 
Will  feed  me  wi'  bannocks  o'  barley  meal. 

I'll  buy  a  fine  present  to  bring  to  my  dear, 
A  pair  o'  fine  garters  for  Maggie  to  wear, 
And  some  pretty  things  else,  I  vow  and  declare, 
When  she  gangs  wi'  me  to  fam'd  Paisley  fair. 


3IO  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  when  we  are  married  we'll  keep  a  braw  cow, 
My  Maggie  sail  milk  her,  and  I  will  plow ; 
We'll  live  a'  the  winter  on  beef  and  lang  kail, 
And  wang  at  the  bannocks  o'  barley  meal. 

If  my  Maggie  should  chance  to  bring  me  a  son, 
He's  to  fight  for  his  king  as  his  father  has  done ; 
I'll  send  him  to  Flanders  some  breeding  to  learn ; 
I'll  aflPinto  Scodand,  and  there  keep  a  farm; 
And  thus  we'll  live,  and  industrious  be, 
And  wha'll  be  so  great  as  my  Maggie  and  me  ? 
We'll  soon  grow  as  fat  as  a  Norway  seal, 
Wi'  feeding  on  bannocks  o'  barley  meal. 

Probably  the  following  is  one  of  the  oldest  ballads  on  barley, 
for  though  it  treats  more  especially  on  beer,  it  claims  from  its  title 
to  be  a  barley  ballad.  It  is  taken  from  th«  Roxburghe  collection : — 

The  Little  Barley-Corne. 

Whose  properties  and  virtues  here^ 
Shall  plainly  to  the  world  appeare 
To  make  you  merry  all  the  yeere, 

(To  the  tune  of  «  Stingo.") 

Come  and  do  not  musing  stand, 

If  thou  the  truth  disceme, 
But  take  a  full  cup  in  thy  hand, 

And  thus  begin  to  leamey 
Not  of  the  earth  nor  of  the  ayre, 

At  evening  or  at  mome, 
But  joviaH  boyes  your  Christmas  keep. 

With  the  Rttle  Barley-Corne. 

It  is  the  cunningist  alchymist, 

That  ere  was  in  the  Land, 
'Twill  change  your  metde  when  it  list. 

In  turning  of  a  hand. 


Barley  and  Malt.  3 1 1 

Your  bluahbg  Gold  to  Silver  wan, 

Your  Silver  into  brasse, 
n^will  tume  a  Taylor  to  a  man, 

And  a  man  into  an  aisc. 


'Twill  make  a  poore  man  with  to  bang 

A  signe  before  his  doore. 
And  those  that  doe  the  pitcher  bang. 

Though  rich  'twill  make  them  poore ; 
'Twill  make  the  silliest  poorest  sneake, 

The  king's  great  porter  scome, 
'Twill  make  the  stoutest  Lubber  weak, 

7'hu  tittle  Barley^Come, 

It  hath  more  shifts  than  Lambt  ere  had 

Or  Hotnt  Poem  too, 
It  will  good  fellowes  show  more  sport 

Than  Bankes  his  horse  could  doe ; 
nTwil]  play  you  faire  above  the  boord, 

Unless  you  take  good  heed, 
And  fell  you  though  you  were  a  Lord, 

Andjust'ifie  the  deed. 

It  lends  more  yeeres  unto  old  age. 

Than  ere  was  lent  by  nature. 
It  makes  the  Poet's  fancy  rage. 

More  than  Castil  and  water ; 
'Twill  make  a  huntsman  chase  a  Fox, 

And  never  winde  his  home, 
'Twill  cheere  a  Tinker  in  the  stockes, 

This  little  Barley^Come, 

It  is  the  only  Will  o'  th'  Wisp, 
Which  leads  men  from  the  way, 

'Twill  make  the  tongue-ti'd  Lawyer  lisp 
And  nought  but  (hic-cup)  say; 


312  Jn  Praise  of  Ale. 

'Twill  make  the  Steward  droope  and  stoop 
Hu  bils  he  then  will  scorne. 

And  at  each  post  cast  his  reckining  up, 
TTm  Bttle  BarUy^Come, 

Twin  make  a  man  grow  jealous  soone, 

Whose  pretty  wife  goes  trim, 
And  nule  at  the  deceiving  rooone. 

For  making  homes  at  him; 
Twill  make  the  maidens  trimly  dance, 

And  take  it  in  no  scome. 
And  help  them  to  a  friend  by  chance, 

7Xw  Uttle  Bar  ley 'Come, 

It  is  the  neatest  serving  man, 

To  entertain  a  friend, 
It  will  doe  more  than  money  can 

All  jarring  suits  to  end ; 
There's  life  in  it,  and  it  is  here, 

Tis  here  within  this  cup. 
Then  take  your  liquor,  doe  not  spare, 

But  clear e  carouse  it  up! 

The  second  part  of  the  little  Barley^Corney 
That  cheereth  the  heart  both  evening  and  morne. 

(To  the  same  tune.) 

If  sicknesse  come,  this  physick  take. 

It  from  your  heart  will  set  it. 
If  feare  incroach,  take  more  of  it, 

Your  heart  will  soon  forget  it ; 
Apollo  and  the  muses  nine. 

Do  take  it  in  no  scome, 
There's  no  such  stufTe  to  passe  the  time, 

jIs  the  little  Barley^Come, 


Barley  and  Malt,  3 1 3 

Twill  make  a  weeping  widow  laugh, 

And  aoone  incline  to  pleasure; 
'Twill  make  an  old  man  leave  his  staffe. 

And  dance  a  youthfiill  measure; 
And  though  your  clothes  be  neere  so  bad, 

All  raggedy  rent,  and  tome. 
Against  the  cold  you  may  be  dad. 

With  the  nuU  Barky^Come. 


'Twill  make  a  coward  not  to  shrink. 

But  be  as  stout  as  may  be; 
'Twill  make  a  man  that  he  shall  thinke, 

That  Jone's  as  good  as  my  Lady ; 
It  will  inrich  the  palest  face. 

And  with  Rubies  it  adome. 
Yet  you  shall  thinke  it  no  disgrace, 

This  ftUle  Barley-Come, 

HTwill  make  your  gossips  merry. 

When  they  their  liquor  see, 
Hey  we  shall  nere  be  weary, 

Sweet  Gossip  here's  to  thee ! 
'Twill  make  the  country  yeonoan 

The  courtier  for  to  scome; 
And  talk  of  Law-suits  o'er  a  can, 

IVttb  this  ttttle  Barley-Come. 

It  makes  a  man  that  write  cannot. 

To  make  you  large  Indentures, 
When  as  he  recleth  home  at  night. 

Upon  the  Watch  he  ventures; 
He  cares  not  for  the  candlelight. 

That  shineth  in  the  home, 
Yet  he  will  stumble  the  way  aright, 

This  little  Barky-Come, 


314  Jn  Praise  of  Ale. 

Twill  make  a  miser  prodigall. 

And  show  himselfe  kind-hearted, 
'Twill  make  him  never  griere  at  all, 

That  from  his  co3rne  hath  parted; 
'Twill  make  the  Shepherd  to  mistake 

His  sheep  before  a  storme; 
Twill  make  the  Poet  to  excell, 

Tbu  Biik  Barlej^Conu, 

It  will  make  young  bds  to  call 

Most  freely  for  their  liquor. 
Twill  make  a  young  Lasse  take  a  fall, 

And  rise  againe  the  quicker ; 
Twill  make  a  man  that  he 

Shall  sleepe  all  night  profoundly, 
And  make  a  man  what  ere  he  be, 

Goe  about  hit  huiinesi  roundly. 

Thus  the  Barley-Come  hath  power. 

Even  for  to  change  our  nature, 
And  make  a  Shrew  within  an  houre. 

Prove  a  kind-hearted  creature ; 
And  therefore  here  I  say  againe. 

Let  no  man  tak't  in  scome. 
That  I  the  vertues  doe  proclaime, 

Of  the  Rule  Barhj'Come. 

Of  Malt  Songs  probably  the  oldest  extant  are  the  different 
versions  of  ^  John  a  Maut "  and  **  AUane  a  Maut,"  taken  from 
Whitelaw's  <*  Scottish  Ballads",  and  originally  from  the  Bannatyne 
MSS.  These  ballads  are  interesting,  as  being  the  undoubted 
originals  of  Bums'  well-known  version  of  **  John  Barleycom." 

Allans  a  Maut. 

Quhen  he  wes  zung,  and  ded  in  grene, 

Haifimd  his  air  about  his  ene, 

Baith  men  and  wemen  did  him  mene. 


Barl€y  and  Malt.  315 

Quhen  he  grew  on  zon  hillis  he; — 
Qahy  towld  not  AUane  honorit  be? 

His  foster  faider,  fare  of  the  toun, 
To  vissy  AUane  he  maid  him  boun ; 
He  saw  him  lyane,  allacei  in  a  swoun 
For  fault  of  help,  and  lyk  to  de; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

Thay  saw  his  heid  begin  to  ryfe  \ 
Syne  for  ane  nureiss  they  send  belyfe, 
Quha  brocht  with  hir  fifty-and-fyve 
Of  men  of  war  fiill  prevely  j — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

Thay  ruschit  fiirth  lyk  helles  nikis. 
And  erery  ane  of  yame  had  hokis; 
They  caut  him  shortly  in  your  clukis. 
Syne  band  him  in  ane  creddill  of  tre ; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

Thay  brot  him  invart  in  the  land, 
Syne  every  freynd  made  him  his  band, 
Quhill  they  might  owdir  gang  or  stand, 
Never  ane  fute  fra  him  to  fle; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

The  grittest  cowart  in  this  land, 
Fra  he  with  Allane  efiter  in  band, 
That  he  may  nowdir  gang  nor  stand, 
Zet  fourty  sail  not  gar  him  fle; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

Sir  Allanis  hewmond  is  ane  cop, 
With  an  sege  fedder  on  his  top; 
Fra  hand  to  hand  so  dois  he  hop, 
Quhill  sum  may  nowdir  speik  nor  sc;— 
Quhy  should  not  Allane  honorit  be? 


3 1 6  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

In  Zule,  quhen  ilk  man  trings  his  carrell, 
Gude  Allane  lyes  in  to  ane  barrell ; 
Quhen  he  is  thair,  he  dowtis  ne  purrell 
To  cum  on  him  be  land  or  se; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  bonorit  be? 

Zet  wes  yair  nevir  sa  gay  ane  gallaney 
Fra  he  meit  with  our  maister.  Sir  Allane, 
Bot  gif  he  hald  him  by  ye  halbne, 
Bak  wart  on  the  flure  ^lis  he; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

My  maister  Allane  grew  so  stark^ 
Quhill  he  maid  mony  cuning  clerk; 
Upoun  yair  faisis  he  settes  his  mark, 
A  bluid  reid  nois  besyd  ye  e ; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

My  maister  Allane  I  may  sair  curs; 
He  levis  no  mooy  in  my  purs; 
At  his  command  I  mon  deburs 
Moir  nor  ye  twa  pt  of  my  fe; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

And  last,  of  Allane  to  conclude ; 
He  is  bening,  courtas,  and  gude, 
And  servis  ws  of  our  daly  fude. 
And  that  with  liberalitie; — 
Quhy  sowld  not  Allane  honorit  be? 

The  next  version  of  the  foregoing  is  taken  from  Jamieson's 
collection: — 

Gude  Allan  a'  Maut  was  ance  cad  Bear, 
And  he  was  cadged  frac  wa'  to  wear. 
And  draggit  wi'  muck  and  syne  wi'  rain, 
Till  he  diet,  and  com'  to  life  again* 


Barley  and  Malt.  3 1 7 

He  first  grew  grene,  syne  he  grew  white, 
Syne  a'  men  thocht  that  he  was  ripe  ; 
And  wi'  crookit  gullies  and  hafts  o'  tree 
They've  hcw'd  him  down  right  douchtillie. 

Syne  they've  set  Allan  up  into  stooks. 
And  casten  on  htm  mony  pleasant  looks; 
They've  turss'd  him  sjm  on  a  sledy 
Till  in  the  grain-yard  they  made  his  bed. 

Then  men  damb  up  upon  a  ladder. 
And  happet  his  head  frae  wind  and  weather-; 
They've  ta'en  him  neist  up  in  their  arms. 
And  make  his'shak-down  in  the  bams. 

The  hollin  souples,  that  were  sae  snell, 
His  back  they  loundert,  roell  for  mell ; 
Mell  for  mell,  and  baff  for  baff, 
'Till  his  hide  flew  about  his  lugs  like  caff. 

Then  in  cam'  Jennie  wi'  her  riddle, 
And  she  gae  mony  a  fike  and  fiddle ; 
Set  up  the  doors,  loot  in  the  win'. 
To  see  what  faucity  fell  frae  him. 

The  stow'd  him  up  intill  a  seek. 
And  o'er  the  horseback  brook  his  neck  ; 
Syne  birstled  they  him  upon  the  kill, 
l^ill  he  was  bane  dry  for  the  mill. 

They  cowpet  him  then  into  the  hopper, 
And  brook  his  banes,  gnipper  for  gnoffer ; 
S3rne  put  the  bum  until  the  feed. 
And  leepit  the  e'en  out  o'  his  head. 

Till  in  cam'  Barmy-breeks  his  brither, 
Like  ae  gude^neibur  to^crak'wi'  anither ; 
Says  Allane  a  Maut,  **  Are  ye  gaun  to  die  ? 
Rise  up  man  first,  and  dance  wi'  me." 


3 1 8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

They  danced  about  frae  hand  to  hand, 
Till  they  danced  o'er  the  working  stand ; 
S3m  in  cam'  Jennie  wi'  her  dish. 
She  gae  mony  a  rummie  rush. 

And  Uskie-bae  ne'er  bure  the  bell 
Sae  bald  as  Allan  bure  himsel'. 
Nor  ever  got  his  pride  a  fa* 
Till  Carlies  passed  him  at  the  wa'. 

Aytoun,  in  his  Collection  of  Scottish  Ballads,  gives  a  somewhat 
modernised  version  of  the  foregoing,  with  the  remark  that,  *<  This 
curious  old  ditty,  in  honour  of  malt,  which  possibly  may  be 
the  original  of  the  popular  ballads  still  current  in  Scodand,  under 
the  name  of  '  John  Barleycorn,'  was  preserved  in  the  Bannatyne 
MSS.,  and  has  long  been  printed  in  the  collections  of  Messrs 
Jamieson  &  Laing: — 

When  he  was  young  and  clad  in  green, 
Having  his  hair  about  his  een, 
Baith  men  and  women  did  him  mene. 
When  he  grew  on  yon  htlle's  hie: 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be  ? 

His  foster-father  furth  of  the  town. 
To  vissy  Allan  he  made  him  boune; 
He  saw  him  lying,  alace  in  a  swoun, 
For  fault  of  help,  and  like  to  die: 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be  ? 

They  saw  his  head  began  to  rive, 
Syne  for  a  nourice  they  sent  belive, 
Wha  broucht  wi*  her  fifty  and  ^v^ 
Of  men  of  war  full  privily: 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be 


Barley  and  Malt.  3 1 9 

They  rushed  forth  like  hellish  rooks, 
And  every  ane  o'  them  had  hooks; 
They  caught  him  shortly  in  their  crooks, 
Syne  band  him  in  a  cradle  of  tree: 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be. 


They  brocht  him  inward  in  the  land. 
Syne  every  friend  made  him  a  band. 
While  they  might  either  gang  or  stand, 
Never  a  fool  frae  him  to  flee : 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be  ? 

The  greatest  coward  m  this  land, 
Free  he  wi'  Allan  enter  in  band, 
Tho'  he  may  neither  gang  nor  stand, 
Yet  forty  shall  not  gar  him  flee: 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be  ? 

Sir  Allan's  hewmont  is  a  cup. 
With  a  segg  feather  on  its  top ; 
Frae  hand  to  hand  so  does  he  hop, 
Till  some  may  neither  speak  nor  see: 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be  ? 

In  Yule  when  ilk  man  sings  his  carol, 
Gude  Allan  hies  into  a  barrel ; 
When  he  is  there  he  doubts  nae  peril, 
To  come  on  him  by  land  or  sea: 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be? 

Yet  was  there  n^ver  so  gay  a  gallan' 
Frae  he  met  wi'  our  Master  Allan, 
But,  gif  he  hauld  him  by  the  hallan, 
Backwork  upon  the  floor  falls  be! 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be? 


320  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

My  Master  Allan  grew  so  stark. 
While  he  made  many  a  cunning  clerk; 
Upon  their  faces  he  sets  his  mark, 
A  blade-red  nose  beside  their  e'e : 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be? 

My  Master  Allan  1  sair  may  curse ; 
He  leave  nae  money  in  my  purse. 
At  his  command  I  maun  disburse, 
Mair  nor  the  twa  part  o'  my  fee: 
Why  should  not  Allan  honoured  be? 

And  last  of  Allan  to  conclude. 
He  is  benign,  courtass,  and  gude, 
And  serves  us  of  our  daily  food, 
And  that  with  liberalitie: 
Why  should  not  AUan  honoured  be? 

The  next  version,  different  from  either  the  foregoing,  is  from 
the  Roxburghe  collection,  No.  343.  **Sir  John  Barley,  a 
pleasant  new  ballad,  to  sing  both  Even  and  Mome,  of  the  bloody 
rourther  of  Sir  John  Barley-Come."  To  the  tune  of  "  Shall  I 
lye  beyond  thee." 

As  I  went  through  the  North  Country, 

I  heard  a  merry  greeting; 
A  pleasant  toy  and  full  of  joy. 

Two  nobleman  were  meeting. 

And  as  they  walked  for  to  sporty 

Upon  a  summer's  day, 
When  with  another  nobleman 

They  went  to  make  a  fray. 

Whose  name  was  Sir  John  Barley-Come, 

He  dwelt  down  in  a  vale : 
Who  had  a  kinsman  dwelt  him  night. 

They  calPd  him  Thomas  Goodale. 


Barley  and  Mali.  321 

Another  named  Richard  Beere 

Was  ready  at  that  time : 
Another  worthy  knight  was  there. 

Called  Sir  WUliam  White  Wine. 

Some  of  them  fought  in  a  blacke-jackcy 

Some  of  them  in  a  can: 
But  the  chiefest  in  a  blacke-pot. 

Like  a  worthy  nobleman. 

Sir  John  Barley-Come  fought  in  a  Boule, 

Who  wenne  the  victorie, 
And  made  them  all  to  fume  and  sweare, 

John  Barley-Come  should  die. 

Some  said  kill  him,  some  said  drowne. 

Others  wished  to  hang  him  hie: 
And  as  many  as  follow  Barley-Corae, 

Shall  surely  beggars  die. 

Then  with  a  plough  they  ploughed  him  up. 

And  thus  they  did  devise, 
To  bury  him  quick  within  the  earth. 

And  swore  he  should  not  rise. 

With  harrows  strong  they  comb^  him, 

And  burst  clods  on  his  head : 
A  joyful  banquet  then  was  made 

When  Barley-Come  was  dead. 

He  rested  still  within  the  earth, 

Till  rain  from  skies  did  fall. 
Then  he  grew  up  in  branches  greene, 

And  sore  amaz'd  them  all. 

And  so  grew  up  till  mid-summer. 

Which  made  them  all  afear'd: 
For  he  was  sprouted  upon  hie, 

And  got  a  goodly  beard. 


32  2  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

When  he  grew  up  till  S.  James  tide, 
His  countenance  was  wan, 

For  he  was  grown  unto  his  strength, 
And  thus  became  a  man. 

With  hookes  and  sickles  keeoe, 

Into  the  field  they  hide. 
They  cut  his  legs  off  by  the  knees. 

And  made  him  wounds  full  wide. 

Thus  bloodily  they  cut  him  downe 
From  place  where  he  did  stand, 

And  like  a  thief  for  treachery. 
They  bound  him  in  a  band. 

So  then  they  tooke  him  up  againe. 

According  to  his  kind : 
And  packt  him  up  in  seyerall  stackes, 

To  wither  with  the  wind. 

And  with  a  pitch-forke  that  was  sharpe. 
They  rent  him  to  the  heart, 

And  like  a  thiefe  for  treason  vile 
They  bound  him  in  a  cart. 

And  tending  him  with  weapons  strong, 
Unto  the  towne  they  hie. 

And  straight  they  mowed  him  in  a  mow 
And  there  they  let  him  lie. 

Then  he  lay  groning  by  the  wals, 
Till  all  his  wounds  were  sore. 

At  length  they  tooke  him  up  againe, 
And  cast  him  on  the  floore. 

Then  hyred  two  with  holly  clubs, 
To  beat  on  him  at  once, 

They  thwacked  so  on  Barley-Come, 
That  flesh  fell  from  the  bones. 


Barky  and  Malt  323 

And  then  tbey  tooke  him  up  againe. 

To  fulfill  women's  minde. 
They  buffdd  and  they  sifted  him 

Till  he  was  almost  blind. 

And  then  they  knit  him  in  a  sacke, 

Which  grievM  him  full  sore: 
They  steep'd  him  in  Tat,  God  vrot, 

For  three  days'  space  and  oaore; 

Then  they  tooke  him  up  againe, 

And  laid  him  for  to  drie. 
They  cast  him  on  a  chamber  floore, 

And  swore  that  he  should  die. 

They  rubbed  and  they  stirred  him, 

And  still  they  did  him  tumc; 
The  Malt-man  swore  that  he  should  die. 

His  body  he  would  bume. 

They  spightfully  tooke  him  up  againe, 

And  threw  him  on  a  kill: 
So  dried  him  there  with  fire  hot. 

And  thus  they  wrought  their  wiU. 

Then  they  brought  him  to  the  mill, 

And  there  they  burst  his  bones ; 
The  Miller  swore  to  murther  him 

Betwixt  a  pair  of  stones. 

Then  they  tooke  him  up  againe. 

An'  8er?*d  him  worse  than  that. 
For  with  hot  scalding  liquor^nr 

They  wash't  him  in  a  vaL 

But  not  content  with  this,  God  wot. 

That  did  him  muckle  harme, 
With  threat'ning  words  they  promises 

To  beat  him  into  barme, 

X  a 


324  Jn  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  lying  b  this  danger  deep 

For  fear  that  he  should  quarrel], 
They  tooke  him  straight  out  of  the  fat 

An'  turned  him  ip  a  barrelL 

And  then  they  set  a  tap  to  him, 

Even  thus  his  death  begun : 
They  drew  out  every  drain  of  blood, 

Whilst  any  drop  would  run. 

Some  brought  jacks  upon  their  backs, 

Some  brought  bill  and  bow, 
And  every  man  his  weapon  had, 

Barley-Come  to  overthrow. 

When  Sir  John  Good-ale  heard  of  this, 

He  came  with  rouckle  might, 
And  there  he  tooke  their  tongues  away. 

Their  legs  or  else  their  sight. 

And  thus  Sir  John  in  each  respect 

So  paid  them  all  their  hire. 
That  some  lay  sleeping  by  the  way. 

Some  tumbling  in  the  mire. 

Some  lay  groning  by  the  wals, 

Some  in  the  streets  downe-right, 
The  best  of  them  did  scarcely  know 

What  they  had  done  ore  night. 

All  you  good  wives  that  brew  good  ale, 

God  tume  firom  you  all  teeres; 
But  if  you  put  too  much  water  in, 

The  Devil  put  out  your  eyes. 

London:  Printed  for  John  Wright,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his 
shop  in  Guilt-spurre  Street,  at  the  sign  of  the  Bib!e. 


\ 


Baney  and  Malt  325 


John  Barley  CoitN. 
Bums, 

There  were  three  kings  into  the  East, 
Three  kings  both  great  and  high, 

And  they  hae  sworn  a  solemn  oath 
John  Barle^rcom  should  die. 

They  took  a  plough  and  ploughed  him  down. 

Put  clods  upon  his  head; 
And  they  hae  sworn  a  solemn  oath 

John  Barleycorn  was  dead. 

But  the  cheerful  spring  came  kindly  on, 

And  showers  began  to  fall ; 
John  Barleycorn  got  up  again. 

And  sore  surprised  them  all. 

The  sultry  suns  of  summer  came, 

And  he  grew  thick  and  strong ; 
His  head  weel  armed  wi'  pointed  spears. 

That  none  should  do  him  wrong. 

The  sober  autumn  entered  mild. 

When  he  grew  wan  and  pale; 
His  bending  joints  and  drooping  head 

Showed  he  began  to  fail. 

His  colour  sickened  more  and  more, 

He  faded  into  age ; 
And  then  his  enemies  began 

To  show  their  deadly  rage. 

They've  taen  a  weapon,  long  and  sharp, 

And  cut  him  by  the  knee ; 
Then  tied  him  fast  upon  a  cart 

Like  a  rogue  for  forgerie. 


3  26  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

They  laid  him  down  upon  his  back. 
And  cudgelled  him  full  sore; 

They  hung  him  up  before  the  storm. 
And  turned  him  o*er  and  o'er. 

They  iill^  up  a  darksome  pit, 

With  water  to  the  brim ; 
They  heaved  in  John  Barleycorn, 

There  let  him  sink  or  swim. 

They  laid  him  out  upon  the  floor 
To  work  him  furtlier  woe: 

And  still,  as  signs  of  life  appeared. 
They  tossed  him  to  and  fro. 

They  wasted,  o'er  a  scorching  flame. 

The  marrow  of  his  bones; 
But  a  miller  used  him  worse  of  all, 

For  he  crushed  him  'tween  two  stones. 

And  they  hae  ta'en  his  very  heart's  blood, 
And  drunk  it  round  and  round ; 

And  still  the  more  and  more  they  drank. 
Their  joy  did  more  abound. 

John  Barleycorn  was  a  hero  bold, 

Of  noble  enterprise ; 
For  if  you  do  but  taste  his  blood 

'Twill  make  your  courage  rise. 

'Twill  make  a  man  forget  his  woe; 

'Twill  heighten  all  his  joy; 
'Twill  make  the  widow's  heart  to  sing, 

Though  the  tear  was  in  her  eye. 

Then  let  us  toast  John  Barleycorn, 
Each  man's  a  glass  in  hand  ; 

And  may  his  great  posterity 
Ne'er  fail  in  old  Scodand ! 


Barley  and  Malt,  327 

•*  Oh,  WilJic  brewed  a  Peck  o*  Maut "  it  another  of  Bums' 
songs,  drawn  from  the  same  source  of  inspiration.  Of  this  song 
Burns  says:  "The  air  is  Masterton's,  the  song  mine.  The 
occasion  of  it  was  this:  Mr  W.lliam  Nicol,  of  the  High  School, 
Edinburgh,  during  the  autumn  vacation  being  at  Moffat,  honest 
Allan  (who  was  at  that  time  on  a  \  isit  to  Dalswinton)  and  I  went 
to  pay  Nicol  a  visit.  We  had  such  a  joyous  meeting,  that 
Masterton  and  I  agreed,  each  in  our  own  way,  that  we  should 
celebrate  the  business."  Dr  Currie,  who  mentions  that  Nicol's 
farm  was  that  of  Loggan,  in  Nithsdale,  adds  that,  "  These  three 
honest  fellows,  all  men  of  uncommon  talents,  were  in  1 798  all 
under  the  turf." 


Oh,  WiLUE  Brewed. 
Tune — *•  Willie  brewed  a  peck  o'  maut." 

Oh,  Willie  brewed  a  peck  o*  maut. 

And  Rob  and  Allan  cam  to  pree: 
Three  blyther  hearts,  that  lee-lang  night, 
Ye  wad  na  find  in  Christendic. 
We  are  na  fou,  we're  no  that  fou. 

But  just  a  drappie  in  our  ee ; 
The  cock  may  craw,  the  day  may  daw. 
And  aye  we'll  taste  the  barley  bree. 

Here  are  we  met,  three  merry  boys, 
Three  merry  boys  I  trow  arc  we; 

And  mony  a  night  weVe  merry  been, 
And  mony  mae  we  hope  to  be! 
We  are  na  fou,  &c. 

It  is  the  moon,  I  ken  her  horn. 
That's  blinkin'  in  the  lift  sae  hie; 

She  shines  &ae  bright  to  wile  us  hame. 
But,  by  my  sooth,  she'll  wait  a  wee ! 
We  are  na  fou,  5cc. 


328  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Wha  first  shall  rise  to  gang  awa, 

A  cuckold,  coward  loun  is  he! 
Wha  last  beside  his  chair  shall  h\ 

He  is  the  King  amang  us  three! 
We  arc  na  fou,  &c. 

The  date  of  the  song  known  as  ^  Stingo,  or  Oil  of  Barley,*'  is 
fixed  by  Mr  W.  Cbappell,  F.S.A.,  between  1620- 1630.  The 
learned  editor  of  the  old  English  Music  then  goes  on  to  say : — 

**  Traces  of  that  doughty  hero.  Sir  John  Barleycorn,  so  famous 
in  the  days  of  ballad  singing,  «nre  to  be  found  as  far  back  as  the 
time  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  as  appears  from  the  following  transla- 
uon  of  the  Exeter  MSS.,  quoted  by  Mr  Thos.  Wright,  F.S.A., 
in  his  literature  and  learning  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  1839: — 

"  *  A  part  of  the  earth  is  prepared  beautifully  with  the  hardest, 
and  with  the  sharpest,  and  with  the  grimest  productions  of  men, 
cut  (sworfen),  turned  and  dried,  bound  and  twisted,  bleached  and 
awakened,  ornamented  and  poured  out,  carried  afar  to  the  doors  of 
the  people  ;  it  is  joy  in  the  inside  of  living  creatures,  it  knocks  and 
slights  those  of  whom  before,  while  alive,  a  long  while  it  obeys 
the  will,  and  expostulateth  not ;  and  then  after  death  it  takes  upon 
it  to  judge  and  talk  furiously.  It  is  greatly  to  seek  by  the  wisest 
man  what  this  creature  is.' " 

After  quoting  so  fully,  I  cannot  do  better  than  transcribe  the 
song  referred  to: — 

Stoigo,  or  Oil  of  Barley. 

There's  a  iusty  liquor  which 

Good  fellows  use  to  take — a. 
It  is  distili'd  with  nard  most  rich, 

And  water  of  the  lake — a; 
Of  hop  a  little  quantity, 

And  barm  to  it  they  bring  too; 
Being  barrell'd  up,  they  call't  a  cup 

Of  dainty  good  old  stingo. 


Barley  and  Malt.  329 

'Twill  make  a  man  indentures  make, 

Twill  make  a  fool  seem  wise, 
'Twill  make  a  Puritan  sociate. 

And  leave  to  be  precise; 
'Twill  make  him  dance  about  a  cross. 

And  eke  to  run  the  ring  too. 
Or  anything  he  once  thought  gross. 

Such  yirtoe  hath  old  stingo. 

'Twill  make  a  constable  over  see 

Sometimes  to  serve  a  warrant; 
'Twill  make  a  bailiff  lose  his  fee, 

Though  he  be  a  knave-arrant; 
'Twill  make  a  lawyer,  though  that  he 

To  ruin  oft  men  brings,  too. 
Sometimes  forget  to  take  his  fee 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 


'Twill  make  a  parson  not  to  flinch. 

Though  he  seem  wondrous  holy. 
And  for  to  kiss  a  pretty  wench, 

And  think  it  is  no  folly; 
Twill  make  him  learn  for  to  decline 

The  verb  that's  cailM  mlngo^ 
'Twill  make  his  nose  like  copper  shine. 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 

'Twill  make  a  weaver  break  his  yam, 

That  works  with  right  and  left  foot, 
But  he  hath  a  trick  to  save  himself, 

He'll  say  there  wanteth  woof  to  't; 
'Twill  make  a  tailor  break  his  thread, 

And  eke  his  thimble  ring  too, 
'Twill  make  him^not  to  care  for  bread. 

If  his  bead  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 


33<^  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

'Twill  make  a  baker  quite  forget 

That  ever  corn  was  cheap, 
'Twill  make  a  butcher  have  a  fit 

Sometimes  to  dance  and  leap; 
'Twill  make  the  mill.T  keep  his  room, 

A  health  for  to  begin,  too, 
'Twill  make  him  shew  his  golden  thumb. 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 

'Twill  make  an  hostess  free  of  heart. 

And  leave  her  measures  pinching, 
'Twill  make  an  host  with  liquor  part. 

And  bid  him  hang  all  flinching ; 
It*s  so  belov'd,  I  dare  protest. 

Men  cannot  live  without  it. 
And  when  they  6nd  there  is  the  best 

The  most  will  flock  about  it. 


And,  finally,  the  beggar  poor, 

That  walks  till  he  be  weary. 
Craving  along  from  door  to  door, 

With  pre^commiserere  : 
If  he  do  change  to  catch  a  touch, 

Although  his  clothes  be  thin,  too, 
Though  he  be  lame,  he*ll  prove  his  crutch 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 


Now  to  conclude,  here  is  a  health 

Unto  the  lad  that  spendeth. 
Let  every  man  drink  off  his  can. 

And  so  my  ditty  endeth ; 
I  willing  am  my  friend  to  pledge, 

For  he  will  meet  me  one  day ; 
Let's  drink  the  barrel  to  the  dregs, 

For  the  malt-man  comes  a  Monday 


Barley  and  Mali.  33 1 

Here  18  another  Tariadon  on  the  same  theme,  and  as  the  music 
was  by  Purday  of  St  Paul's  Churchyard,  I  take  the  song  to  be  of 
more  recent  date  than  Bums : — 


The  Merry  Days  of  ENCLAKa 

They  were  merry  days  for  England,  in  cottage  and  in  hall. 
When  Sir  John  Barleycorn  was  free,  and  paid  no  tax  at  all ; 
When  Sir  John  BaHeycom  was  free,  we'd  neither  want  nor  woe, 
For  he  fiH'd  each  manly  heart  with  glee,  and  cheer'd  both  high 
and  low. 

They  were  merry  days  for  England,  when  peasants  brtw'd  good 

beer, 
And  Sir  John  Barleycorn  was  free  to  glad  them  all  the  year ; 
When  Sir  John  Barleycorn  was  {x^^  our  peasants  were  content. 
Nor  envied  men  of  high  degree  their  wealth  and  their  descent. 

They  were  merry  days  for  England,  as  we  read  in  song  and  tale, 
When  we'd  neither  whtgs  nor  tories,  but  the  merry  nut-brown  ale; 
When  Sir  John  Barleycorn  was  free,  he  cheer'd  both  high  and 

low. 
And  instead  of  sickly  pale-faced  tea,  we*d  a  drink  to  make 

hearts  glow. 

We'd  have  merry  days  in  England  in  spite  of  care  and  toil. 
If  Sir  John  Barleycorn  were  free  for  the  men  who  till  the  soil; 
When  Sir  John  Barleycorn  is  free  we'll  fear  no  foreign  foe, 
Nor  sip  slow  death  in  poisoned  lee,  for  the  malt's  pure  juice  shall 
flow. 

They'll  be  merry  days  in  England  for  the  farmer  and  his  man, 
When  Sir  John  Barleycorn  is  free  to  fill  the  earthen  can, 
When  Sir  John  Barleycorn  is  free  and  pays  no  tax  at  all, 
Then  merry  will  our  counties  be  from  the  cottage  to  the  hall. 


332  In  Praise  9/ Ak. 

Hene  is  one  of  the  oldest  malt  ballads  in  the  English  language, 
from  the  Roxburgh  collection: — 


j1  New  Ballad  for  you  to  looke  on  :  bow  mault  doth  deale  with 
everyone, — To  the  tune  of  Triumph  and  Joy* 

Mass  Mault  he  is  a  gentleman. 

And  hath  been  since  the  world  began ; 

I  never  knew  yet  any  man 

That  could  match  with  Master  Mault,  sir. 

I  never  knew  any  match  Mault  but  once — 
The  Miller  with  his  grinding  stones; 
He  laid  him  so  close  that  he  crush 't  his  bones, 
You  never  knew  the  like,  sir. 

Mault,  Mault,  thou  art  a  flowre. 
Thou  art  beloved  in  every  house, 
Thou  canst  not  be  missing  one  halfe-houre, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

For  laying  of  his  stones  so  close 
Mault  gave  the  Miller  a  copper  nose, 
Saying  thou  and  I  will  never  be  foes, 
But  unto  thee  I  stick,  sir. 

Mault  gave  the  Miller  such  a  blow. 
That  from  his  horse  he  fell  full  low; 
He  taught  his  master,  Mault,  for  to  know, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

Our  hostesse-maid  she  was  to  blame — 
She  stole  Master  Mault  away  ftom  her  dame, 
And  in  her  belly  she  hid  the  same, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 


Barley  and  Midi.  333 

So  when  the  Mault  did  worke  b  her  head. 
Twice  a-day  she  would  be  sped ; 
At  night  she  could  not  go  to  bed, 
Nor  scarce  stand  on  her  feet,  sir. 

Then  in  came  the  Master  Smith, 
And  said  that  Mault  he  was  a  theefe; 
But  Mault  gave  him  such  a  dash  in  the  teeth. 
You  never  saw  the  like,  dr. 

For  when  his  nose  was  hot  and  red. 
He  had  such  an  ach  all  in  his  head, 
The  Smith  was  fain  to  get  him  to  bed. 
For  then  he  was  very  sick,  dr. 

The  Carpenter  came  a  peace  to  square. 
He  bade  Mault  come  out  if  he  dare. 
He  would  empty  his  belly  and  beat  his  ddes  hare, 
That  he  knew  rvt  where  to  dt,  dr. 

To  fire  he  went  with  an  armful  of  chips ; 
Mault  hit  him  right  between  his  lips. 
And  made  him  lame  in  both  his  hips, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  dr. 

The  Shooe-maker  sitting  upon  his  seat, 
With  Master  Mault  began  to  fret ; 
He  said  he  would  the  nave  so  beat. 
You  never  saw  the  like|  sir. 

Mault  peept  his  head  out  of  a  hall ; 
The  Shooe-maker  said  he  would  drink  him  up  all ; 
They  tumbled  together  till  down  they  did  fall. 
You  never  saw  the  like,  dr. 

The  weaver  being  in  his  loome. 
He  threatened  Master  Mault  to  hum, 
When  he  had  knit  on  to  the  thum, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  dr. 


.334  ^^  Praise  af  AU. 

And  such  a  court  some  weaTeri  held — 
They  would  pay  our  hostess  when  they  had  feld  ; 
But  when  every  one  had  his  part  and  deald, 
They  knew  not  where  to  sit,  sir. 

The  Tinker  he  tooke  the  Wearer's  part, 
Because  that  touching  unto  his  art; 
He  took  the  pot  and  drank  a  quart. 
The  worde  was  rery  quicke,  sir. 

Mault  had  of  him  his  owne  desire — 
He  made  him  tumble  into  the  fire. 
And  there  he  lost  his  burling  ire, 
He  hath  not  found  it  yet,  sir. 

The  Taylor  came  in  to  guide  his  sheares, 
Mault  and  he  were  together  by  the  eares ; 
Great  is  the  company  that  Mault  still  reares, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

For  when  his  pressing-iron  was  hot 
He  pressed  a  boord  instead  of  a  coat, 
And  sayled  home  in  a  feather-bed  boat 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

So  then  the  Tinker  he  found  his  pan, 
And  saidy  Master  Mault,  I  must  be  gone ; 
I  am  the  good  fellow  that  helpeth  each  one. 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

The  Tinker  then  thathe  was  faine 
With  Mault  to  have  a  bout  or  twain, 
Mault  hit  him  sore  in  every  vaine. 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

Then  he  spake  the  tinker  anon, 

He  said  he  would  prove  himself  a  man  ; 

He  laid  on  Mault — ^the  bonsse  was  gone. 

The  Bung  and  the  Tinker  fell  seeke,  sir. 


Barley  and  Malt,  335 

The  Taylor  he  did  curae  and  ban, 
He  had  the  boy  go  up  the  can ; 
He'd  have  a  bout  with  Malt  anon, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  dr. 

Aboozed  they  went  to  try  their  match. 
And  there  they  played  at  hops  and  catch, 
Madt  bestowed  him  under  the  hatch, 
And  made  him  keep  the  ship,  sir. 

Then  came  the  Chapman  travelling  by. 
And  said,  my  masters,  I  will  be  w'ye ; 
Indeed,  Master  Mault,  my  mouth  is  dry, 
I  will  gnaw  you  with  my  teeth,  sir. 

The  Chapman  he  laid  on  apace. 
Till  store  of  blood  came  in  his  face. 
But  Mault  brought  him  in  such  a  case. 
You  ne\'er  saw  the  like,  sir. 

The  Mason  came  an  oven  to  nuke, 
The  Bricklayer  he  his  part  did  take  ; 
They  bound  Mault  to  the  good  old  suke, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

Then  Mault  began  to  tell  his  mind, 
And  plied  them  with  ale,  beere,  and  wine  ; 
They  left  brick,  axe,  and  trowell  behind. 
They  could  not  lay  a  bricke,  nr. 

Then  came  the  Labourer  out  with  his  hood. 
And  saw  his  two  masters  how  they  stood  ; 
He  took  Master  Mault  by  the  whood. 
And  swore  he  would  him  stricke,  sir. 

Mault  he  ran  and  for  feare  did  weep. 
The  Labourer  he  did  skip  and  leape ; 
But  Mault  cast  him  in  the  mortar  heape, 
And  there  he  fell  asleep,  sir« 


336  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  Butcher  came  to  buy  a  sheepe  : 
He  said  he  would  make  Mault  to  creepe  ; 
But  Mault  made  him  the  cat  to  whip, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

The  Glover  came  to  buy  a  skin, 
Mault  hit  him  right  below  the  chin. 
The  Pewter  John  came  doubling  in, 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

And  laid  on  head,  arroes,  and  joynts. 
Took  away  his  gloves  and  grosse  of  poynts, 
And  swore  they  had  paid  him  in  quarts  and  pints. 
You  never  saw  the  like,  sir. 

Thus  of  my  song  I  will  make  an  end, 
And  pray  my  hostess  to  be  my  friend, 
To  give  me  some  drinke  now  my  money  is  spent. 
Then  Mault  and  I  are  quit,  sir. 

The  next  song  is  a  thoroughly  representative  one,  taken  from 
Whitelaw's  collection. 


John  Maut. 

Ye'U  a'  ha'e  heard  tell  O  John  Maut,  John  Maut, 

Ye'll  a'  ha'e  heard  tell  O  John  Maut : 
He's  been  sae  to  blame,  that  he's  got  a  bad  name. 

But,  faith !  he's  far  waur  than  he's  ca't,  John  Maut. 

His  doublet  is  raggit,  John  Maut,  John  Maut, 

His  doublet  is  raggit,  John  Maut, 
His  hat's  down  in  the  crown,  he  has  awfu'  like  shoon. 

And  his  stockings  are  waefully  gaut,  John  Maut ; 
Ye'll  a'  ha'e  heard  tcU,  &c. 


Barley  and  Malt.  337 

He  swears  like  a  trooper,  John  Maut,  John  Maut, 

He  swears  like  a  trooper,  John  Maut ; 
He  ne'er  sticks  at  a  lee,  and  he'll  fecht  wi'  a  flee, 

Tho'  nane  but  himsel's  in  the  faut,  John  Maut. 
Ye'll  a'  ha'e  heard  tell,  &c. 

He's  whiles  in  the  skies,  John  Maut,  John  Maut, 

He's  whiles  in  the  skies,  John  Maut ; 
But  down  in  the  mud,  he  plays  clash  wi'  a  thud, 

And  his  claes  ye  might  clean  wi'  a  claut,  John  Maut. 
Ye'll  a'  ha'e  heard  tell,  Sec. 

The  weans  they  get  fiin  wi'  John  Maut,  John  Maut, 

The  weans  they  get  fun  wi'  John  Maut; 
They  hoot  and  they  cry  as  they  see  him  gan  by. 

But  whiles,  though,  he  lends  them  a  claut,  John  Maut. 
Ye'll  a'  ha'e  heard  tell,  &c. 

The  lasses  a'  lo'e  John  Maut,  John  Maut, 

The  lasses  a'  lo'e  John  Maut ; 
They  swear  it's  no  true,  but  they  get  themseWes  fou. 

And  then  they  sairly  misca't  John  Maut. 
Ye'll  a'  ha'e  heard  tell,  &c. 

The  wives  are  fond  o'  John  Maut,  John  Maut, 

The  wives  are  fond  o'  John  Maut ; 
They  say  he  is  gran',  they  ne'er  mind  their  guidman, 

But  they  coax,  and  they  cuddle,  and  daut  John  Maut. 
Ye'll  a'  ha'e  heard  tell,  &c. 

Sac,  I  redd  ye  tak'  tent  o'  John  Maut,  John  Maut, 

I  redd  ye  tak'  tent  o'  John  Maut ; 
He's  no  wecl  to  ha'e  for  a  frien'  or  a  fae, 

Sae  I  redd  ye  keep  out  o'  his  claut,  John  Maut. 
Ye'll  a'  ha'e  heard  tell,  &c. 

Jamieson,  in  his  collection,  gives  the  following  as  the  original 
version  which   Bums  adapted.      Dixon  states,  however,  in  his 

Y 


338  In  Praise  of  Ak. 

Ballads  of  the  Peasantry  of  England*  that  John  Barley  Com  was 
a  very  ancient  West  Country  Ballad: — 

John  Barley  Corn. 

There  came  three  merry  men  from  the  East, 

And  three  merry  men  they  be ; 
And  they  hare  sworn  a  solemn  oath, 

John  Barley  Com  should  dee. 

They're  ta'en  a  plough  and  ploughed  him  down, 

Put  clods  upon  his  head  ; 
And  they  have  sworn  a  splemn  oath, 

John  Barley  Com  was  dead. 

But  the  Spring  time  it  came  on  at  last, 

And  showers  began  to  fall ; 
When  Barley  Com  sprang  up  again, 

Which  did  surprise  them  all. 

Then  the  Summer  heat  on  him  did  beat. 

And  he  grew  pale  and  wan  ; 
John  Barley  Com  has  got  a  beard 

Like  any  other  man. 

They've  ta'en  a  hook  that  was  full  sharp, 

And  cut  him  above  his  knee ; 
And  they've  bound  him  intill  a  com  cart, 

Like  a  thief  for  the  gallows  tree. 

They've  ta'en  twa  sticks,  that  were  full  stout, 

And  sore  they  beat  his  bones ; 
The  miller  used  him  worse  than  that, 

And  ground  him  between  two  stones. 

The  browster-wife  we'll  not  forget ; 

She  well  her  tale  can  tell ; 
She's  ta'en  the  sap  out  of  his  bodie. 

And  made  of  it  gude  ale. 


Barley  and  Malt.  339 

Aod  they  have  fill*d  it  10  a  cup, 

And  drank  it  round  atd  round, 
And  aye  the  mair  they  drank  o'  it, 

The  mair  did  joy  abound. 

John  Barley  Corn  is  the  mightiest  raan 

That  ever  throve  in  land  ; 
For  he  could  put  a  Wallace  down 

Wi*  the  tumin'  of  his  hand. 

He'll  gar  the  huntsman  shoot  his  dog  ; 

His  gold  a  miser  scorn  ; 
He'll  gar  a  maiden  dance,  stark  naked, 

Wi'  the  toomin'  of  a  horn. 

He'll  change  a  man  into  a  boy, 

A  boy  into  an  ass  ; 
He'll  change  your  gold  into  silver, 

And  your  silver  into  brass. 

And  here  we  have  his  very  heart-blood, 

Sae  bizzin'  bright  and  brown  ; 
And  aye  we'll  birl  the  tither  stoup, 

And  aye  we'll  bend  it  roun'. 

And  ye  will  drink  a  health  to  me, 

And  ril  drink  ane  to  you  ; 
For  he  never  misses  health  or  wealth. 

That  wi'  Johnny's  Mood  is  fu'. 

Bums's  edition  is  too  well-known  to  need  reprinting. 

John  Philips,  the  scholarly  author  of  **  The  Splendid  Shilling  " 
and  "  Cyder,"  did  not  disdain  to  pen  a  few  stanzas  in  praise  of 
Barley  and  the  produce  thereof,  in  his  poem  of  **  Cerealia  ":— r- 

"  Of  English  tipple,  and  the  potent  grain, 
Which  in  the  conclave  of  Celestial  powers 

Y  I 


340  J^  Praise  of  Ale. 

Bred  fell  debate,  aog.  Nymph  of  heavenly  stem. 
Who  on  the  hoary  top  of  Pen-main-maur 
Merlin  the  seer  did  visit,  whilst  he  sate 
With  astrolabe  prophetic,  to  foresee 
Young  actions  issuing  from  the  Fates'  divan. 
Full  of  thy  power  infus'd  by  nappy  ale, 
Darkling  he  watch'd  the  planetary  orbs. 
In  their  obscure  sojourn  o'er  heaven's  high  cope. 
•         ••••••         •• 

Then  from  beneath  her  Tyrian  vest  she  took 
The  bearded  ears  of  grain  she  most  admir'd, 
Which  god's  call  Chrithe,  in  terrestrial  speech, 
Eycleped  Barley.     "  'Tis  to  this,**  she  cry'd, 
"  The  British  cohorts  owe  their  martial  fame. 
And  ^r-redoubted  prowess,  matchless  youth  ! 
This,  when  returning  from  the  foughten  field, 
Or  None,  or  Iberian,  seam'd  with  scars, 
(Sad  signatures  of  many  a  dreadful  gash  1) 
The  veteran,  carousing,  soon  restores 
Puissance  to  his  arm,  and  strings  his  nerves." 


Bloomfield,  in  his  "  Banks  of  the  Wye,"  follows  in  a  somewhat 
similar,  though  more  homely,  strain: — 

"  And  deem  not  that,  where  cider  reigns. 
The  beverage  of  a  thousand  plains. 
Malt,  and  the  liberal  harvest  horn, 
Are  all  unknown,  or  laugh'd  to  scorn  ; 
A  spot  that  all  delights  might  bring, 
A  palace  form  an  eastern  king, 
Canfromc,  shall  from  her  vaults  display 
John  Barleycorn's  resistless  sway. 
To  make  the  odd  of  fortune  even, 
Up  bounced  the  cork  of '  seventy-seven,' 
And  sent  me  back  to  school ;  for  then, 
Ere  yet  I  learn'd  to  wield  the  pen  ; 


Barley  and  Malt  341 

The  pen  that  should  all  crimes  assail, 
The  pen  that  leads  to  fame — or  jail ; 
Then  steam'd  the  malt,  whose  spirit  bears 
The  frosts  and  suns  of  thirty  years !  " 


Somerville  also  grows  patriotic  over  the  "  Barley  Broth,"  in  his 
"Hobbinol,"  Canto  III. 

«*  Nor  does  the  jolly  god 
Deny  his  precious  gifts ;  here  jocund  swains, 
In  uncouth  mirth  delighted,  sporting  quaff 
Their  native  beverage ;  in  the  brimming  glass 
The  liquid  amber  smiles.     Britons,  no  more 
Dread  your  invading  foes ;  let  the  false  Gaul, 
Of  rule  insatiate,  potent  to  deceive, 
And  great  by  subtile  wiles,  from  the  adverse  shore 
Pour  forth  his  numerous  hosts ;  Iberia !  join 
Thy  towering  fleets,  once  more  aloft  display 
Thy  consecrated  banners,  fill  thy  sails 
With  prayers  and  vows,  most  formidably  strong 
In  holy  trumpery,  let  old  Ocean  groan 
Beneath  the  proud  Armada,  vainly  dcem*d 
Invincible ;  yet  fruitless  all  their  toils. 
Vain  every  rash  effort,  while  our  fat  glebe. 
Of  barley  grain  productive,  still  supplies 
The  flowing  treasure,  and  with  sums  immense 
Supports  the  throne ;  while  this  rich  cordial  warms 
The  farmer's  courage,  arms  his  stubborn  soul 
With  native  honour,  and  resistless  rage 
Thus  vaunt  the  crowd,  each  freebom  heart  o  erflows 
With  Britain's  glory,  and  his  country's  love." 

In  Staffordshire  they  now  use  a  sort  of  malt  made  of  oats 
mixed  with  barley,  which  they  call  dreg-malt  And  in  Essex, 
&c.,  they  have  a  grain  called  dreg,  of  which  Tom  Tusser,  in  his 
••  Husbandrie,*'  says: — 


342  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

**  Sow  barley  and  dreg»  with  a  plentiful  hand. 
Lest  weed  'sted  of  seed  overgroweth  thy  land. 
Thy  dreg  and  thy  barley,  go  thresh  out  to  Malt.*' 

In  Cowels'  "  Interpreter,"  1701  A.a,  the  word  is  given  as  a 
verb,  Dragium. 

The  following  fragmentary  verses,  descriptive  of  rustic  rejoic- 
ings in  harvesting  the  last  load  of  barley  into  the  mow,  are 
taken  from  a  longer  ballad  quoted  in  Hone's  Every  Day  Book: — 


The  Harrow  and  the  Plough. 

Let  the  scythe  and  sickle  lie 

Undisturbed  for  many  a  day ; 
Labour  stoops  without  a  sigh, 

And  grisly  care  is  gay; 
Bless  the  Harrow  and  the  Plough ! 

Bless  the  glorious  Barley  Mow, 

Now  the  miller's  hoppers  play ; 

Now  the  maltster's  kiln  is  dry; 
Empty  casks  prepare  the  way. 

And  mirth  is  in  the  eye: 
Praise  the  sun  and  trim  the  bough — 

Hail  the  golden  Barley  Mow, 

The  ploughshare  as  a  means  to  that  end  which  is  consum- 
mated when  the  last  load  is  drawn  to  the  barley  mow,  deserves 
praises : — 

The  Ploughshare  of  Old  England. 

The  sailor  boasts  his  stately  ship,  the  bulwark  of  our  isle, 
The  soldier  loves  his  sword,  and  sings  of  tented  plains  the  while, 
But  wc  will  hang  our  ploughshare  up  within  our  father's  halls, 
And  guard  it  as  the  deity  of  plenteous  festivals. 


Barley  and  Malt.  343 

We'll  pluck  the  brilliant  poppies,  and  the  &r-Euii'd  barley  corn. 
To  wreath  with  bursting  wheat  ears  that  outshine  the  saffinon  mom, 
Well  crown  it  with  a  glowing  heart,  and  pledge  our  fertile  land, 
The  ploughshare  of  Old  England  and  the  sturdy  peasant  band. 

The  work  it  does  is  good  and  blest,  and  may  be  proudly  told. 
We  see  it  in  the  teeming  bams  and  fields  of  waTing  gold. 
Its  petal  is  unsullied,  no  blood-staio  lingers  there — 
God  q)eed  it  well  and  let  it  thrive  unshackled  ererywhere. 

The  bark  may  rest  upon  the  wave,  the  spear  nuy  gather  dust. 
But  nerer  may  the  prow  that  cuts  the  furrow  lie  and  rast. 
Fill  up,  fill  up,  with  glowing  heart,  and  pledge  our  fertile  land, 
The  ploughshare  of  Old  England  and  the  sturdy  peasant  bond. 

Not  less  noteworthy  than  either  of  the  foregoing  is  ''The 
Barley  Mow  Song,"  which  was  alwajrs  '*  sung  at  country  meetings 
in  Devon  and  Cornwall,  particularly  on  completing  the  carrying 
of  the  barley,  when  the  rick,  or  mow  of  barley,  is  finished.  On 
putting  up  the  last  sheaf,  which  is  called  the  craw  (or  crow) 
sheaf,  the  man  who  has  it  cries  out,  '  I  hare  it,  I  hare  it,  I  hare 
it;'  another  demands,  *What  have  'ee,  what  hare  'ee,  what 
have  'ee?'  and  the  answer  is,  'A  craw!  a  craw!  a  craw!' 
upon  which  there  is  some  cheering,  &c.,  and  a  supper  afterwards. 
The  effect  of  •  The  Barley  Mow  Song '  cannot  be  given  in  words; 
it  should  be  heard  to  be  appreciated  properly — particulariy  with 
the  west-country  dialect."  "Ah  me  and  waes  me!"  as  old 
T.  Carlyle  wailed.  Old  times  have  changed,  old  manners  gone, 
and  these  good  old  customs  which  brought  master  and  man 
together  are  fast  dying  out. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  noow,  brave  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow! 
We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  jolly  brown  bowl. 
Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow! 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow,  brave  boys, 
Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow! 


344  ^^  Praise  of  Ale, 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  nipperkin,  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow! 
The  nipperkin  and  the  jolly  brown  bowl, 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

WeTl  drink  it  out  of  the  quarter-pint,  boys. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow ! 
The  quarter-pint,  nipperkm,  &c 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  half-a-pint,  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow! 
The  half-a-pint,  quarter-pint,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  pint,  my  brave  boys. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow ! 
The  pint,  the  half-a-pint,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  5rc. 

Well  drink  it  out  of  the  quart,  my  brave  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow! 
The  quart,  the  pint,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  pottle,  my  boys. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow  ! 
The  pottle,  the  quart,  5cc. 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

Well  drink  it  out  of  the  gallon,  my  boys. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  bariey  mow ! 
The  gallon,  the  pottle,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  &c 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  half-anker,  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow ! 
The  half-anker,  gallon,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  5cc. 


Barley  and  Malt.  345 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  anker,  my  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow  ! 
The  anker,  the  half-anker,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  half-hogshead,  boys. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow ! 
The  half-hogshead,  the  aoker,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  &c.  ' 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  hogshead,  my  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow  I 
The  hogshead,  half-hogshead,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  pipe,  my  brave  boys. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow  ! 
The  pipe,  the  hogshead,  &c 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  well,  my  brave  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow ! 
The  well,  the  pipe,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  river,  my  boys. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow  ! 
The  river,  the  well,  &c. 

Here's  a  health,  &c. 

We'll  drink  it  out  of  the  ocean,  my  boys, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow  ! 
The  ocean,  the  river,  the  well,  the  pipe,  the  hogshead,  the  half- 
hogshead,  the  anker,  the  half-ankcr,  the  gallon,  die  pottle, 
the  quart,  the  pint,  the   half-a-pint,  the   quarter-|)int,  the 
nippcrkin,  and  the  jolly  brown  bowl ! 
Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  mow,  my  brave  boys ! 
Here's  a  health  to  the  barley  noow  ! 


346  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

The  foregoing  verses  are  very  much  ad  iibhum^  but  always  in 
the  third  line  repeating  the  whole  of  the  previously  named 
measures,  as  shown  in  the  recapitulation  at  the  close  of  the  last 
verse.  Those  who  have  ever  been  privileged  to  go  to  a  real  old 
harvest  home  supper  will  know  that  the  boys  emptied  the  cans, 
the  nipperkins,  &c.,  most  conscientiously. 

There  have  been  many  mutilated  versions  of  the  following,  but 
the  subjoined  is  the  full  and  true  and  an  authorised  report. 

IN  THE  HiaH  COURT  OF  JS8TICB. 

The 
Whole  TRYAL  and  Indictment 

of 

Sir  yohn  Barley-Corn^  Knight. 

A  Person  of  Noble  Birth  and  Extraction  and  well  known  to 
both  Rich  and  Poor  throughout  the  Kingdom  of  Great 
Britain:  Being  accused  for  several  Misdemeanours  by  him 
committed  against  Her  Majesty's  Liege  people ;  by  Killing 
some,  Wounding  others,  and  bringing  Thousands  to  Beggary, 
to  the  ruin  of  many  a  good  family. 

Here  you  have  the  Substance  of  the  Evidence  given  in  against 
him  on  his  Tryal,  with  the  names  of  Judges^  Jury^  and 
Witnesses;  also  the  comical  Defence  Sir  John  makes  for 
himself,  and  the  good  Character  given  by  some  of  his 
Neighbours  ;  namely,  Hrwson^  the  Cobler,  an  honest  friend 
to  Sir  Jobn^  who  is  Entom'd  as  a  Memorandum  at  the  Two 
Brewers  in  East  Smithfield, 

Taken  in  Short  Hand  by  Timothy  Toss  Pot,  Foreman  of  the 
Jury, 

London :  Printed  for  J.  Dutton^  near  Fleet  street^  1 709. 

The  whole  Tryal  and  Indictment  of  Sir  John  Barley-Com, 

Knight, 

By  a  Special  Commission  of  the  Peace,  held  October  the  1 6M, 
at  Fulhpot'Hall^  in  the  Kingdom  of  Utofiay  before  the  Right 


Barley  and  Malt.  347 

Wonhipfttl  Sir  Solomon  Sobersides^  and  Sir  Lucifer  Bettswagger^ 
chief  Judges  of  the  Court  of  King  Baccbns^  the  aforesaid  Sir 
John  Barley-Com^  Knight,  was  brought  on  his  Tryal.  The 
Court  being  sat,  and  the  Prisoner  placed  at  the  Bar,  the  Jury  was 
called  ofer  as  follows : — 


Timotby  Tosspot. 
Benfonun  Bumper. 
GiOs  Lick^Spigot. 
Bamahy  Pull' Pot. 
I^mcelot  Toper. 
John  Six'go^Downs. 


Richard  Standfast. 
Small  Stout. 
John  Never  Sober. 
ObacBah  Thirsty. 
Nicholas  Spend  Thr^. 
Edmond  Empty^Purte. 


Against  whom  the  Prisoner,  Sir  John^  having  no  Excepdons, 
the  Clerk  proceeded  to  open  the  Indictment  ai  follows : — 

Clerk.'\  Sir  John  Barley^Com^  of  the  County  of  Drink  McJt^ 
Kt.,  for  that  thou  hast  in  a  very  bold  and  audacious  manner, 
knocked  down,  killed,  maimed,  and  despoiled  many  of  Her 
Majesty's  good  and  lawful  Subjects;  also,  that  thou  hast  for 
many  years,  and  still  doth  hold  a  trayterous  Conspiracy  with 
Bamahy  Hop^  Esq.,  and  Timothy  Mash  Pat^  a  Brewer,  two  as 
notorious  persons  as  thyself,  by  and  with  their  assistance,  to 
intoxicate  the  heads  of  honest  and  well  meaning  People,  to  the 
ruining  and  impoverishing  of  their  Persons  and  Estates  ;  so  that 
many  poor  Mans  Wife  and  Children  sit  at  home,  wanting  what 
they  sinfully  waste  in  thy  inticing  Company,  as  will  appear  by 
many  credible  Witnesses,  who  are  deplorable  instances  of  the 
truth  of  this  indictment  Therefore  what  sayest  thou?  Art 
thou  Guilty  of  the  Fact  for  which  thou  standest  Indicted,  or  not 
Guilty  ? 

Sir  John."]  Not  Guilty. 

Clerh.2  How  wilt  thou  be  try'd  ! 

Sir  John."]   By  the  Opinion  of  all  Judicious  Persons. 

ClerL"]  Cryer,  Make  Proclamation. 

Cryer.']  O  yes,  O  yes;  If  any  Person  can  inform  the  Judges 
of  any  Murders,  Treasons,  or  other  Misdemeanours  committed 
by  the  Prisoner  at  the  Bar,  let  them  come  into  Court,  and  they 
shall  be  heard  in  their  several  Orders. 


348  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

CltrL2  CaU  JohM  Fukan  the  Blacksmith. 

Fukan.']  Here. 

CM,"]  iDform  the  Judges  what  thou  hast  to  alledge  against 
the  Prisoner  at  the  Bar. 

Fulcan.l  ^V  ^  please  your  Honours  IVorships^  and  you 
Gentlemen  of  the  Jury^  I  am  very  wfll — nay  very  intimately  ac^ 
quainted  with  the  Prisoner  at  the  Uar^  and  that  your  Worships 
wW  have  reason  to  judge  when  I  have  told  you  alL  I  am  a 
Bldcismith  by  my  Trade^  and  being  liable  to  much  Heat^  had  an  un^^ 
quenchable  Spark  in  my  Throaty  which  sometimes^  1  may  say  often^ 
going  to  quench  with  a  single  Pot^  Sir  John  has  laid  hold  of  me, 
and  so  drawn  me  in  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  part  without  a 
gallon^  and  when  I  would  have  gone  about  my  Business,  he  has 
catched  me  fast  hold  of  the  Noddle,  trifd  up  my  Heels,  and  laid  me 
flat  on  my  Back,  and  made  me  unfit  to  go  to  work  for  three  Days 
afterguards ;  and  besides  having  my  Head  and  my  Bones  ake  the 
next  Momwg:  it  has  set  my  Wif^s  tongue  a-going  Tike  a  Paper  Mill; 
so  that  wiith  the  IJfe  I  have  lived  on  one  side,  and  having  my 
Pocket  pick* d  on  toother  side,  it  makes  me  truly  sensible  of  my  Error, 
and  that  I  think  Sir  John  ought  to  be  punished  for  seducing  honest 
Men  at  this  rate,  so  that  I  can  hardly  keep  a  Half  Peck  Loaf  in 
my  Cupboard  for  keeping  mc  Company,  This,  Gentlemen,  is  my 
grievance,  and  I  hope  that  the  Prisoner  at  the  Bar  shall  be  punish' d 
accordingly. 

Clerk.-]  Call  minam  Shuttle  the  Weaver. 

Shuttle,"]  Gentlemen,  I  have  a  few  things  to  alledge  against 
the  Prisoner  at  the  Bar,  and  those  I  shall  sum  up  in  a  very  few 
Words.  I  am  but  a  poor  Man,  and  have  a  Wife  and  a  great 
charge  of  Children  ;  I  am  a  Weaver  by  my  Trade,  and  can  never 
sit  at  my  loom,  but  this  Wicked  Companion  is  enticing  me  from 
my  Work,  and  is  never  quiet  until  he  get  me  to  the  Ale  House, 
and  when  I  am  there  I  have  no  mind  to  come  Home  again, 
where  he  always  picks  a  Quarrel  with  me  and  abuses  mc,  and 
sometimes  he  sets  upon  me  like  a  Robber  or  Footpad,  tyes  me 
Neck  and  Heels,  throws  mc  into  a  Ditch  and  there  leaves  me  till 
next  morning  with  never  a  Penny  in  my  Pocket ;  so  that  if  you 
Hang  him,  Behead  him  or  Quarter  him,  you  have  my  free  Con- 


Barley  and  Malt  349 

sent  with  all  my  Heart  and  Soul  from  the  very  bottom  of  my 
Belly. 

Clerk.']  Call  Tbcma*  Snip  the  Taylor.     What  do  you  know 
of  the  Priaoner  at  the  Bar  ? 

Smp.  ]  Know !  I'm  sure  I  know  no  good  of  him ;  for  my 
part  I  never  cared  for  his  Company  in  my  Life,  for  I  always 
lov'd  my  Neighbour  IVheai  better  than  Barley.  But  one  time  as 
I  was  coming  home  from  Work,  I  espy'd  Sir  John  and  two  or 
three  good  Fellows  a'  quarrel ling»  so  what  do's  I  but  steps  be- 
tween them,  and  makes  them  good  Friends.  Sir  John  presently 
pick'd  a  quarrel  with  me,  gave  me  such  a  knock  of  the  Crown 
that  I  fell  Backwards  and  had  likely  to  Burst  myself.  I 
broke  my  Yard  and  both  my  Elbows,  so  that  I  could  not  work 
for  a  Fortnight  afterwards ;  and  what  is  still  worse,  he  is  got 
acquainted  with  my  Wife  and  sends  her  home  in  a  Scolding 
Mood  every  Night,  and  for  my  part  unless  I  am  as  Drunk  as  she, 
I  dare  not  say  my  Soul's  my  own ;  and  if  he  continues  to  debauch 
her  in  that  manner,  I  am  an  undone  Man.  Therefore  I  hope 
your  Worships  will  take  it  into  your  Considerations  and  put  him 
to  the  same  Death  that  I  have  put  many  of  my  Enemies  to — 
that  is,  Snap  off  his  Head. 

6'Zfri.]  Call  Sarah  Stitch.  Woman,  tell  the  Court  what  you 
know  of  the  Prisoner  at  the  Bar — Sir  John  Barley^Com — and 
speak  out  that  the  Court  and  Jury  may  hear  you. 

Sarah  Stitch.  ]  Yes,  sir,  I  will.  I  am  sure  I've  reason  enough 
to  speak,  that  all  the  Town  may  hear  me.  May  it  please  the 
Worshipful  Bench,  I  am  a  poor  Journeyman  Shoemaker's  wife  ; 
and  there's  hardly  a  night  I  come  home  fix>m  my  Business,  for  I 
sell  Fish  about  the  Streets,  but  I  find  my  Husband  in  Sir  John 
Barlty^Com^s  company,  and  ten  to  one,  if  I  ask  him  to  come 
home,  and  Sir  John  and  he  be  very  great,  but  he  gives  me  a 
Kick  of  the  Breach — an't  please  your  Honours.  He  can  cam  his 
ten  shillings  a  week,  but  what  by  neglecting  his  work  to  follow 
Sir  John  up  and  down,  and  what  he  spends  in  his  company,  it 
hardly  comes  to  Ten  Pence  a  Week.  We  have  three  children, 
and  if  I  did  not  bustle  in  the  World  we  might  all  starve,  and 
what  vexes  me  more  is,  when  my  husband  was  arretted  by  )4t 


3  JO  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

IVbeailthe  Baker,  and  in  trouble,  I  went  in  all  haate  to  his  old 
Friend  Sir  John  Barley^Corn  to  see  if  I  could  borrow  a  crown 
towards  paying  the  Bailiffs,  but  instead  of  lending  me  anything, 
he  told  me  he  did  not  value  my  Husband's  Company,  and  that 
he  had  warned  him  several  times  to  keep  out  of  it ;  and  yet  this 
Fool  when  he  has  got  6d.  in  his  Pocket  will  immediately  run 
and  spend  it  with  him.  So  that  if  he  bean't  punished  some  how 
or  other,  I  and  my  children  are  like  to  trouble  the  Parish. 

Clerk.']  Call  James  IVheat  the  Baker. 

Wbeat,]  Most  reverend  Judge,  I  have  this  to  say  against  the 
Prisoner  at  the  Bar,  that  I  am  daily  and  hourly  abused  by  him. 
I  have  been  a  Man  esteem 'd  of  among  the  best  of  People — 
Lords,  Knights,  and  Esquires — and  none  could  please  them  so 
well  as  James  Wheat  the  Baker.  But  the  case  is  alterd ;  Sir 
John  Barley  Com  is  the  man  that  carries  it.  He  is  preferred  in 
Gentlemen's  Houses,  and  is  in  favour  with  all  Servants,  especially 
the  Butler.  Many  Country  Gentlemen  worship  him  and  fall 
down  before  him  ;  nay,  I  can  prove  he  has  made  many  a  one 
consume  his  Estate,  and  to  sell  House  and  Land  and  leave  his 
Family  Beggars,  and  all  to  maintain  this  idle  and  pernicious 
Companion,  Sir  John  Barley^Corn  ;  and  when  Men  have  no- 
thing left,  for  the  fancy  they  bear  to  Sir  John  Barley •Corn^  they'll 
rob  and  steal  to  keep  him  Company,  when  he  is  such  an  un- 
grateful Fellow  himself,  that  if  they  were  starving  he  wou'd  not 
give  them  a  Meal's  Meat.  Therefore,  I  hope  your  Honours 
will  take  it  into  your  Considerations,  and  as  a  common  Dis- 
turbance and  Grievance  to  Mankind,  far  beyond  any  Thief  that 
steals  their  goods,  let  him  suffer  Death  according  to  his 
Demerits. 

Sir  Oliver  Sobersides.]  Sir  John,  you  hear  the  charge  against 
you ;  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself  ?  You  are  represented 
as  a  Destructive  Person  to  the  Commonwealth,  and,  indeed,  as 
the  Evidence  stands  against  you,  unless  you  clear  yourself,  I 
cannot  see  but  that  you  highly  deserve  to  suffer ;  it  now  comes 
in  course  that  you  make  your  Defence. 

Sir  Lucifer  BeOstvagger.]  I  am  of  opinion,  Brother  Judge, 
that  Sir  John  will  and  can  fairly  vindicate  himself  from  this  charge. 


Barley  and  Malt.  351 

t  wou'd  have  no  man  condemn  him  before  he  is  heard.  Nor 
can  I  tee  any  harm  in  keeping  him  Company,  so  long  as  he  does 
not  force  them.  It  shows  rather  that  he  is  a  facetious,  merry 
person,  and  of  pleasant  Behaviour  that  his  company  is  so  desirous. 
Therefore  Jet's  hear  him  before  we  determine  anything. 

Sir  John."]  I  humbly  beg  that  I  may  have  the  benefit  of  the 
Law,  the  Benefit  of  every  Free  Bom  Subject,  to  speak  for 
myself.  Every  man  will  strive  to  make  his  Case  seem  as  good 
as  he  can,  although  he  himself  is  in  the  greatest  Fault,  as  the  old 
Proverb  says,  Sfme  had  better  steal  a  sheep  than  look  over  the 
hedge^  which  is  like  my  case,  and  I  am  afraid  that  there  is  Malice 
and  Bribery  against  me.  Now,  as  I  am  accused  by  all  those 
persons,  I  shall  answer  them  all  together  and  speak  nothing  but 
the  Truth.  I  confess  my  Name  is  Barlej'^Corn^  and  have  been 
deservedly  Knighted  for  the  Service  I  have  done  the  Common- 
wealth, of  which  I  am  a  good  and  loyal  Member.  In  the  first 
place.  Gentlemen,  besides  making  many  an  honest  Man's  Pot 
Boil.  I  do  service  to  the  Commonwealth  by  raising  the  Excise, 
a  third  part  which  is  one  of  the  best  Branches  of  tl)e  Crown 
Revenue.  I  am  deservedly  cstct*m'd  by  all  sober  and  moderate 
People,  for  the  Good  I  do  when  seasonably  consulted,  and  put 
to  a  right  use.  I  am  one  that  never  forces  any  Body — but  leave 
them  alone  to  do  as  they  please  —either  to  keep  me  Company  or 
let  it  alone,  so  that  if  they  keep  me  Company,  they  may  thank 
themselves.  And,  whereas,  they  say  they  are  ruined  by  Sir  John 
Barlej^Com^  I  will  prove  the  Indictment  to  be  wrong  laid,  for  'tis 
not  Barley  "Corn  does  all  this  they  complain  on,  but  my  Uncle 
Maulty  for  I  am  an  innocent  Person  till  I  am  found  in  his  Com- 
pany, therefore  I  hope  you  will  not  adjudge  me  for  my  Uncle's 
^ults,  hut  put  the  saddle  on  the  right  horse. 

Sir  OKver  Sobersides,']  Truly,  there  is  some  reason  in  thaL 
Mr  Mault,  what  do  you  say  for  yourself  ?  If  you  are  not  pre« 
pared,  the  Court  is  willing  to  grant  you  time. 

lArlMault.']  No,  I  am  willing  to  answer  for  myself.  As 
for  my  part,  I  will  leave  my  case  to  the  Bench.  First,  I  pray, 
consider  with  yourselves.  All  Trades  will  live,  and  altho'  I 
sometimes  with  my  cousin.  Sir  Johns^  help,  make  a  Cup  of  good 


35  2  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Liquor,  and  many  men  come  to  taste  it,  yet  the  Fault  is  in  neither 
of  us,  but  io  them  that  make  the  Complaint  Else  let  'em  stay 
till  they  are  sent  for.  Who  can  deny  but  that  Mr  Mauli  can 
make  a  cup  of  good  liquor  by  the  help  of  a  good  Brewer,  and 
when  it  is  made  it  must,  be  sold.  I  pray,  which  of  you  all  can  live 
without  it  ?  Where  else  would  you  sop  your  Toast  and  Nut- 
meg ;  and  what  should  asswadge  the  thirst  of  Gammons  and  Red 
Herrings,  were  I  to  suffer  ?  Lords,  Knights,  and  Esquires 
would  want  their  March  beer  and  October^  to  treat  their  Tenants 
and  their  Friends.  Bottle,  Ale,  and  Stout  would  be  wanted  at 
/j/ington  and  Highgate  to  treat  your  Wives  with.  Old  women 
would  want  Hot  Pots  of  Brandy  and  Ale,  and  the  good  wife 
that  lies  in  could  have  no  Caudle.  And  consider  whether  these 
Grievances  would  not  overwhelm  the  slender  Complaint  of  these 
Persons  who  have  been  of  a  greedy  Mind,  and  cannot  afford  the 
expense,  and  may  justly  be  compared  with  the  Fox  in  the  Fable, 
who  wouid^  when  he  could  not  come  at  the  Grapes^  cry'd  they  were 
sowre.     Then,  pray,  judge  whether  they  or  we  were  in  the  fault  ? 

Sir  Lucifer  Bellswagger.']  Truly,  I  can't  see  wherein  you  are 
blameable  at  all  if  you  make  this  appear.  Have  you  no  witnesses 
to  call. 

Sir  John  and  Mr  Moult.']  Yes,  several.  Call  William  Fal' 
low  Field,  the  Plowman,  (The  Plowman  enters.) — Gentle- 
men, I  pray,  may  a  man  speak  without  Offence — that  do's  intend 
to  speak  nothing  but  the  Truth  and  no  more. 

The  Judges,]  Yes,  thou  may'st  be  bold  to  speak  the  Truth 
and  no  more,  for  that  is  the  Cause  we  sit  herefore — therefore 
speak  boldly,  that  we  may  understand  thee. 

The  Plowman,]  Gentlemen,  in  the  first  place,  let  me  hear 
what  bold,  impudent  Rogue  dare  speak  one  word  against  Sir  John 
Barley^Com  ?  Whosoever  he  is,  he  is  no  better  than  a  Rogue, 
a  Thief,  a  Vagabond,  a  Traytor  to  the  Brown  Loaf,  a  Thief  to 
the  Brass  Pot,  the  Oven,  and  the  Spit.  Nay,  he  is  a  Traytor  to 
the  whole  World  that  would  take  away  the  life  of  so  noble  a 
man  as  Sir  John  Barley^Com^  for  he  is  a  Man  of  an  Ancient 
House,  and  is  come  of  a  noble  Race  ;  there  is  neither  Lord, 
Knight,  or  Squire  but  they  love  his  company,  and   he  theirs,  as 


Barley  and  Malt.  353 

long  as  they  do  not  abuie  him.  He  will  abuse  no  man,  but  doth 
a  great  deal  of  Good,  as  I  can  make  appear  in  many  kinds  of 
ways.  And  in  the  first  place,  few  Plowmen  can  live  without 
him,  for  if  it  were  not  for  him  we  could  not  pay  our  Landlords 
and  our  Rents,  and  then,  I  pray,  what  would  such  Men  do  for 
Money  and  Fine  Cloaths  ? 

Nay,  your  gay  Ladies  would  care  but  little  for  you  if  you  had 
not  your  rent  coming  in  to  mamtain  them,  and  we  could  not  pay 
it  but  that  Sir  John  Barley-Corn  feeds  us  with  Money ;  and  yet 
would  ye  seek  to  take  his  life  ?  For  shame — let  your  Malice 
cease,  and  pardon  his  life,  or  else  we  are  all  undone.  [Enter 
Mr  Grain f  the  Brnver.']  Gendemen,  I  beseech  you  hear  roe 
speak.  My  name  is  Grains^  a  Brewer ^  and  I  do  believe  few  of  you 
can  live  without  a  cup  of  good  Liquor,  no  more  can  I  tell  how 
to  live  without  the  aid  of  Sir  John  Barley»Com.  As  for  my  own 
part,  I  maintain  a  great  Charge,  and  keep  a  great  many  men  at 
work.  I  pay  Taxes  Forty  Pounds  a  Year  to  Her  Majesty,  God 
Bless  Her — and  all  this  is  maintained  by  the  help  of  Sir  John — 
then  how  can  any  man  for  shame  take  away  his  Life  ?  [Enter 
Mrs  Full  Pot  the  Hostess.']  Take  his  Life  !  I  pray  which  is 
that  who  would  take  his  Life  ?  It  is  Sir  John  Barley^Com^  Mrs 
Hostess  :  they  say  they  would  take  off  his  Head.  How — take  off 
his  Head — tlien  they  shall  take  off  mine  too.  What  im- 
pudent Rogues  be  they  that  say  so !  I  am  persuaded  they  be 
none  that  loves  the  poor  Commonalty.  Surely  they  be  none  but 
some  miserable  Rogues,  that  make  their  Bags  their  God,  heapmg 
up  their  chests  of  Money  to  stop  the  Devil's  Mouth  when  he 
comes  to  fetch  them.  Such  as  these  would  have  nobody  live  but 
Themselves.  Indeed,  such  as  these  do  not  care  to  take  off  the 
Head  of  any  Man^  if  they  could  but  Inrich  themselves  by  it. 
Away  Vagabonds.  Away  you  Blood-sucking  Rogues,  away  you 
Muck  Worms  of  the  World,  you  would  have  nobody  live  but 
yourselves.  I  hope  Sir  John  will  stay  anoong  us  when  Old  Nick 
will  fetch  such  as  you  away  by  Ten  at  a  Burthen.  Gentlemen, 
I  do  beseech  you  not  to  take  any  notice  of  what  such  Fellows 
say,  for  they  care  not  what  Blood  they  shed.  As  for  Sir  John^ 
I  know  him  to  be  an  honest  Man,  and  never  abused  any  Man,  it 

L 


354  J^  Praise  of  Ale. 

they  abuie  not  him.     First,  in  so  doing  they  abuse  themselves, 
for  all  they  say  he  abuses  them.  I  do  protest  to  you.  Gentlemen, 
before  you  do  take  his  life,  you  shall  take  mine.     Nay,  I  beseech 
you,  give  me  leave  to  speak  to  you — if  you  put  him  to  Death  all 
England  is  undone,  for  there  is  not  such  another  in  the  Land 
that  can  do  as  he  can  do,  and  hath  done ;  for  he  can  make  a 
Coward  to  fight  with  a  Valiant  Soldier.     Nay,  he  can  make  a 
Cripple    to    go,   he    can    make  a  good   Soldier  feel    neither 
Hunger  nor  Cold.     Besides  for  Valour  in   himself,  there   is 
few  that  can  Encounter  with  him,  for  he  can  pull  down  the 
strongest     man    in    the    World,    and    lay    him    fast    asleep. 
Therefore  I  beseech  you,  Gentlemen,  let  him  live,  or  else  we  are 
all  undone.     [Cotfrf.]  Have  you  any  more?     [Sir  John,'^  Call 
Mr  Ovargage  the  Exciseman,     [Enter  Exciieman,']     Gentlemen, 
all  that  this  woman  has  said  before  yon  is  true.     Besides  all  other 
benefits  accruing  by  Sir  John  and  his  worthy  Uncle  Mr  MauU^ 
there  are  upwards  of  1500  idle,  broken  Fellows  of  us  main- 
tained in  England — besides  in  Ireland  and  Scotland  ;  and  if  they 
suffer,  we  and  our  Families  must  all  starve,  for  we  are  too  lazy 
to  work.     Therefore,  I  hope,  among  the  rest  you  will  consider 
our  Cases  and  acquit  the  Prisoners. 

Court,']  Gendemen  of  the  Jury.  You  have  heard  the 
Evidence  on  both  sides,  now  as  to  the  Validity  of  it.  I  find  the 
soberest  persons  are  those  for  the  prisoners.  'Tis  true.  Sir  John 
is  accused  of  ingratitude,  and  that  in  some  measure  may  be  true. 
Yet  no  person  is  bound  by  the  Laws  to  support  another  in  his 
Extravagance,  nor  to  do  more  than  they  please.  Therefore  we 
think,  if  you  believe  the  credit  of  Sir  JMi  Winesses,  you  must 
acquit  the  Prisoners,  or  if  you  think  the  other  of  most  credit, 
then  you  are  to  find  them  guilty.  But  that  is  left  with  you,  and 
80  go  together. 

The  jury  went  out,  and  after  half  an  hour's  suy  retum'd  into 
Court. 

ClerhJ]  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,  are  you  agreed  in  your 
Verdict  ? 

Jury,"]  Yes. 

Cleri,']  Who  shall  say  for  you  ? 


Barley  and  Malt.  355 

Jury."^  Our  Forenum  Tmoihy  Totspci. 

Clerk.'}  Sir  John  Barky-Corn  and  Matthew  Mault^  hold  up 
your  hands.  Look  on  the  Prisoners ;  what  say  you,  are  they 
guilty  of  the  Crimes  for  which  they  stand  Indicted,  or  not 
Guilty  ? 

Foreman.']  Not  GuUty. 

Clerk, ]  And  so  say  you  all. 

Jury,']  Yes. 

Clerk.]  Prisoners,  down  on  your  knees  and  thank  the  Court. 
Upon  which  Sir  John  Barley-Com  and  his  Uncle,  paying  their 
Fees,  went  out  of  Court,  and  so  to  the  Tavern,  and  there  com- 
posed the  following  SONG  : — 

The  Tune  is,  Sir  John  Barley-Com, 

ALL  you  that  be  good  Fellows^ 

come  listen  unto  me. 
If  thai  you  keep  the  jile  Houee^ 

and  merry  Company, 

My  name  u  Sir  John  Barley-Corn, 

which  many  know  fuU  well. 
My  Brother*!  name  is  Master  Mault^ 

as  many  a  one  can  tell. 

Though  Smug  the  honest  Blacksmith 

on  me  doth  sore  comphmu 
Eer  long  I  know  I  shall  not  miss 

to  shoot  him  through  the  brmn. 

And  honest  Will  the  Weaver, 

for  all  he  is  so  stout^ 
I  know  h^ll  do  his  Endeawner 

to  have  the  other  Boui. 

And  Nick  the  nimhle  Taylor 

will  venture  his  best  Shears  ^ 
Tiff  BaHey-Com  and  Master  Mault 

doth  take  him  by  the  Ears. 


356  In  Praise  cf  Ale. 

Though  Master  Wheat  the  Baker, 
he  be  my  younger  brother^ 

He^tt  not  deny  a  Bout  to  try 
with  me  or  any  other. 

Ther/i  not  a  Tradesman  in  this  Land 
thai  ever  yet  was  Bom^ 

But  win  not  touch  J  sometimes  too  much, 
of  Sir  John  Barley-Com. 

Therefore^  all  honest  Tradesmen^ 
a  good  word  for  me  give^ 

And  pray  thai  Sir  John  Barley-Com 
may  a/ways  with  you  live. 

Finis. 


From  this  verdict  may  be  learned  the  folly  of  excess,  and 
the  injustice  of  charging  a  cheering  beverage  with  the  evil  con- 
sequences of  a  man  taking  a  cup  more  of  it  than  will  do  him 
good. 

The  following  extract  belongs  to  the  same  period.  The  first 
stanza  is  from  an  anonymous  song  in  praise  of  wine  :  — 

John  Barleycorn's  a  wholesome  blade. 

Whom  people  tipple  daily ; 
And  Vulcan's  sons  and  ev'ry  trade 

Their  homage  pay  him  gaily. 


357 


CHAPTER   Z« 

HOPS. 

^*  The  flowery  hop^  whose  iendrib  cSmhmg  rtmnd 

The  tall  aspiring  pole^  bear  their  Sghi  heads 

Aloft^  in  pendent  chuters^  which  in  nudfs 

Fermenting  tuns  infuid^  to  mellow  age 

Preserves  the  potent  draught.^* 

R.  DODSLEY. 

Hops,  says  Culpq>per9  are  so  well  known  that  they  need  no 
description ;  I  mean  the  manured  kind,  which  every  good  hus- 
band or  housewife  is  acquainted  with. 

Descript, — ^The  wild  hop  groweth  up  as  the  other  doth,  ramp- 
ing upon  trees  or  hedges  that  stand  next  to  them,  with  rough 
branches  and  leaves  like  the  former,  but  it  giveth  smaller  heads, 
and  is  far  less  plenty  than  it,  so  that  there  ib  scarce  a  head  or 
two  seen  in  a  year  on  divers  of  this  wild  kind,  wherein  consisteth 
the  chief  di^rence. 

Place, — They  delight  to  grow  in  low  moist  grounds,  and  are 
found  in  all  parts  of  this  land. 

Government  and  Virtues. — It  is  under  the  dominion  of  Mars. 

This,  in  physical  operations,  is  to  open  obstructions  of  the  liver 
and  spleen,  to  cleanse  the  blood,  to  loosen  the  belly,  to  cleanse  the 

Provokes,  Diswig,         "^'  ^"^"^  «"^*»  ^^  ^^^^^  "™«- 
TeUow  Jaundice,  '^^^  ^^^°  ^^  ^^  *^P/  W«.  «• 

Liver,  Stomach,  Agues.      ^^"  ^^^  ^^    ^~  ^   ""^  ,^«  .^* 

worketh  the  same  effects.  In  cleans- 
ing the  blood,  and  all  manner  of  breakings-out  of  the  body ;  as  also 
all  tetters,  ringworms,  and  spreading  sores,  the  morphew  and  all 
discolouring  of  the  skin.     The  decoction  of  the  flowers  and  tops 


358  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

do  help  to  expel  poison  that  any  one  hath  drank.  Half  a  dram 
of  the  seed  in  powder  taken  in  drink,  killeth  worms  in  the  body, 
and  expelleth  urine.  A  syrup  made  of  the  juice  and  sugar, 
cureth  the  yellow  jaundice,  easeth  the  headache  that  comes  of 
heat,  and  temperateth  the  heat  of  the  liver  and  stomach,  and  b 
probably  given  in  long  and  hot  agues  that  rise  in  choler  and 
blood.  Both  the  wild  and  the  manured  are  of  one  property,  and 
are  alike  efiectual  in  all  the  aforesaid  diseases. 

By  all  these  testimonies  beer  appears  to  be  better  than  ale. 

Mars  owns  the  plant,  and  then  Dr  Reason  will  tell  you  how 
it  performs  these  actions. 

Chambers  in  his  great  work  takes  a  similar  view  as  to  the 
medical  properties  of  hops  as  does  the  old  herbalist  quoted  above. 

''  In  the  springtime,"  says  Chambers,  ^^  when  the  bud  is  yet 
tender,  the  tops  of  the  plants  being  cut  off  and  boiled,  are  eat  like 
asparagus,  and  found  very  wholesome  and  effectual  to  loosen  the 
body;  the  heads  and  tendrils  are  good  to  purify  the  blood  in 
scurvy  and  most  cutaneous  diseases ;  decoctions  of  the  flowers  and 
syrups  thereof,  are  of  use  against  the  pestilential  fevers;  julips  and 
apozems  are  also  prepared  with  hops  for  hypochondriacal  and 
hysterical  affections.  A  pillow  stuffed  with  hops,  and  laid  under 
the  head,  is  said  to  procure  sleep  in  fevers  attended  with  de- 
lerium." 

Addington,  Lord  Sidmouth,  Pitt's  rival  and  Premier  of 
England,  the  son  of  an  eminent  doctor,  prescribed  a  pillow 
stuffed  with  hops  for  the  use  of  George  III.,  and  this  sudorific 
became  a  £uhionable  remedy  for  headache  and  nervous  complaints, 
and  this  remedy  for  sleeplessness  was  at  one  time  very  fashionable. 
A  similar  prescription  was  adopted  in  the  case  of  H.R.H.  the 
Prince  of  Wales  during  his  dangerous  illness,  and  in  each  case 
the  cure  was  ascribed  to  the  Humuhis  lupulu. 

A  Belgian  journal  devoted  to  the  mterests  of  the  hop  trade,  says 
that  in  that  country  the  herb  is  not  only  used  in  brewing,  but  its 
tender  tops  serve  the  Belgians  for  asparagus,  an  infusion  of  iu  flower 
yields  a  well-known  yellow  dye  for  wool,  its  stalks  yield  a  flax 
that  in  Sweden  is  woven  into  cloth,  and  a  bag  of  hops  is  often 
used  in  medicine  to  allay  inflammation.     The  strong  bitter  odour 


Hops.  359 

of  the  ripeoed  bloom  has  a  straDgely  exhilarating  eflect  in  cases 
of  despondency;  and  the  dried  hop  itself  has  curious  sleep- 
beguiling  properties,  occasionally  taken  advantage  of  in  critical 
cases.  But  die  principal  use  of  hops  is  in  the  brewery,  for  the 
preservation  of  malt  liquors,  which,  by  the  super-addition  of 
balsamic  aperient  and  diuretic  bitter,  become  less  viscid,  less  apt  to 
turn  sour,  more  detergent,  more  disposed  to  pass  off  by  urine,  and 
in  general,  more  salubrious.  They  are  said  to  contain  an  agree- 
able odorous  principle,  which  promotes  vinous  fermentation 
When  slightly  boiled  or  infused  in  warm  water,  they  increase 
its  spirituosity.  The  <<  Old  Ale  Knights  of  England,"  as 
Camden  calls  the  sturdy  yeomen  of  the  fifteenth  century,  were 
ignorant  of  the  ale  to  which  hops,  in  after  years,  gave  both 
flavour  and  preservation. 

Baker,  in  his  ^Chronicles,**  gave  currency  to  the  following 
doggrel: — 

*'  Turkeys,  Carp,  Hops,  Piccarel,  and  Beer, 
Came  into  England  all  in  one  year/' 

This  statement  was  incorrect,  however ;  beer  was  known  and 
appreciated  in  this  country  from  time  immemorial,  as  has  been 
shown ;  whereas  the  time  referred  to  by  Baker  was  during  the 
early  part  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  At  the  time  the 
Promptorium  was  compiled  in  1440,  the  use  of  hop  was  not 
unknown.  A  writer  in  Notes  and  Quenet  states  that  Ale,  the 
Saxon  drink,  was  a  thick,  sweet,  unbofped  Bquor^  and  as  such 
distinguished  from  the  more  modem  hopped  beer.  Professor 
Johnston  quotes  from  Gerrard  as  follows: — ^^The  manifold 
virtues  in  hopes  do  manifestly  argue  the  wholesomeness  of  beer 
above  ale;''  and  the  Professor  conjectures  that  the  origin  of  this 
distinction  may  be  due  to  the  use  of  the  word  beer  in  the  Low 
Countries  from  whence  hops  were  introduced.  It  would  appear, 
however,  that  beer  was  known  in  this  country,  and  specified  as 
such,  before  the  use  of  hops,  which  were  imported  in  1524, 
though  other  bitters  had  supplied  their  place.  The  prejudices 
that  existed  against  the  favourite  bitter  were  very  great. 

According  to  the  Harleian  MSS.,  we  find  that  two  centuries 


360  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

ago  an  aie-man  brought  an  action  and  recovered  damages  against 
his  brewer,  for  spoiling  his  ale  by  putting  in  ^^  a  certain  weed  called 
a  hoppe.*  Old  Fuller,  too,  in  his  "  Worthies,"  mentions  a  petition 
to  Parliament  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VL,  against  the  wicked  weed 
called  hops.  They  were  not  so  bitter  in  themselves  as  others 
have  been  against  them,  and  accusing  hops  as  a  noxious  preservative 
of  beer  but  destructive  to  those  who  drank  it  Bartholimis,  in  his 
«  Medicina  Danonini,"  inveighs  against  the  use  of  hops  in  beer  as 
pernicious  and  malignant,  and  recommends  that  shavings  of  deal 
boards  be  substituted.  These,  he  afHrmed,  gave  a  grateful  odour  to 
the  drink. 

Fuller  discredits  the  idea  that  hops  were  known- in  Henry  VI. 's 
time,  and  concurs  in  the  popular  belief  that  they  were  introduced 
into  this  country  from  Artois  in  1 524.  In  consequence  of  the 
opposition  of  the  faculty  to  this  <<  wicked  weed,"  a  law  was 
passed  in  1 528  prohibiting  iu  use  under  severe  penalties.  Fuller 
could  not  have  been  correct,  for  the  authority  I  have  already  quoted, 
states  that  he  has  seen  a  lease  dated  1 465,  containing  a  clause  pro- 
hibiting the  tenant  from  burning  the  hoppolis  (hope  tymbre).  From 
this  it  would  appear  that  hops  were  not  only  known  but  cultivated 
at  that  early  date,  the  probability  being  that  the  plant  is  indigenous 
to  this  country,  and  in  common  with  ale-hoof  or  ground  ivy,  has 
been  used  from  very  ancient  times  as  a  bitter  condiment  for  beer, 
one  important  fact  being  that  the  English  hope  has  from  a  remote 
period  been  considered  superior  to  those  grown  in  any  other 
country.  Henry  VIII.  forbade  the  use  either  of  hops  or  sulphur 
in  ale,  but  the  edict  was  a  short-lived  one,  for  in  the  succeeding 
reign  we  find  that  both  the  royal  and  popular  tastes  had  altered. 
During  the  last  year  of  Edward  VI. 's  reign,  privileges  were 
granted  to  proprietors  of  hop  grounds.  The  plant  is  mentioned 
in  the  Statute  Book,  1528,  Henry  VIII.;  in  1552,  5  and  6 
Edward  VI.,  cap.  5 ;  in  James  I.,  1603,  cap.  18.  Tusser,  who 
flourished  ^m  1 523  to  1 580,  celebrated  the  praise  of  what,  even 
at  the  date  of  his  writing,  was  known  as  the  "  wicked  weed." 
William  King,  in  his  **  Art  of  Cookery,"  letter  IV.,  embodies  this 
sentiment,  ^  Neither  can  a  poet  put  hops  in  an  Englishman's  drink 
before  heresy  came  in." 


Hops.  361 

*<  The  hop  for  his  profit  I  thus  do  exalt. 
It  strengtheneth  drink  and  it  flavoureth  malt. 
And  being  well  brewed,  long  kept  it  will  last, 
And  drawing  abide,  if  ye  draw  not  too  fast." 

In  the  reign  of  James  I.  the  plant  was  not  sufficiently  cultivated 
to  supply  the  home  demand,  and  in  1608  a  statute  was  enacted 
against  the  importation  of  foreign  hops.  Whatever  difficulties 
may  have  attended  the  first  introduction  of  the  fragrant  bitter  mto 
universal  use  in  Breweries,  it  is  certain  that  it  will  never  be  dis- 
placed in  the  concoction  of  the  national  drink,  notwithstanding  the 
laudations  that  are  sounded  in  favour  of  '^  Quassia  and  Hop 
substitutes."  Bate  Dudley,  in  his  opperetta  of  **  The  Woodman," 
puts  this  sentiment  neatly: — 

^  Hail  to  the  vine  of  Briton's  vale, 
Whose  stores  refine  her  nut-brown  ale. 

Till  that  like  nectar  flows. 
Whose  virtues  to  this  Isle  confin'd. 
Was  sent  to  cheer  a  Briton's  mind, 
Too  generous  for  her  foes." 

There  is  a  little  poetic  license  taken  (and  granted)  in  the  fourth 
line  of  the  above  stanza.  The  next  stanzas  are  from  Dr.  Bush- 
nan's  ^  Burton  and  its  Bitter  Beer,"  but  I  cannot  tell  whether 
it  is  original  or  *< adapted"  by  the  author: — 


Gathering  the  Hop. 

When  the  plants  are  laden  with  beautiful  bloom. 
And  the  air  breathes  around  us  its  rich  perfume; 
And  the  village  reapers  exultingly  come 
To  gather  the  fruits  of  their  harvest  home. 
More  graceful  the  bop  than  the  far-&m'd  vine. 
More  tenderly,  too,  doth  its  tendrils  twine; 
And  there,  like  the  spirit  of  all  sweet  flowers. 
The  peasant  girl  glides  through  its  fairy  bowers. 


362  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  far  and  near, 

With  accent  clear, 
The  hop-picker's  song  salutes  the  glad  ear; 

The  old  and  the  young 

Unite  in  the  throng. 
And  echo  re-echoes  their  jocund  song. 
The  hop-picking  time  is  a  time  of  glee. 
So  merrily,  merrily,  now  sing  we; 
For  the  bloom  of  the  hop  is  the  secret  spell 
Of  the  bright  pale  ale  we  love  so  well; 
So  gather  it  quickly,  with  tender  care. 
And  off  to  the  waggons  the  treasvire  bear. 


The  total  area  of  land  under  hop-cultivation  throughout  the 
world  is  estimated  at  about  30x^000  acres,  of  which  nearly  a 
fourth  are  in  Bavaria. 


3^3 


CHAFTEI.  XI. 

SCOTCH  ALE  SONGS. 

There  lived  in  Gotbtck  dayt^  at  legends  tett^ 
A  thepberd'iwainf  a  man  of  low  degree; 
Wboee  eiret  perchance  in  fairyland  might  dwells 
Sicilian  groves  ^  or  Vales  of  Arcady  ; 
But  he  I  ween^  was  of  the  north  countree; 
A  nation  famed  for  song^  and  beaut fs  charms  : 
Zealous  yet  modest ;  innocent  though  free  ; 
Patient  of  toil;  serene  amidst  alarms  ; 
Inflexible  infaiib^  invincible  in  arms. 

Jas.  Beattie,  The  Mmstrel. 

The  Scotch,  as  I  have  pointed  out  in  an  earlier  part  of  this  work, 
were  the  earliest  Beer-drinkers  and  ergo  Brewers,  and  from  them 
the  Sassenachs  learned  to  love  the  liquor.  The  feasts  of  Moira 
were  recorded  by  Ossian  as  the  strength  of  the  shell  went  round. 
In  a  land  where  ploughmen  are  poets,  and  shepherds  were  sweet 
minstrels,  and  the  most  unlettered  hind  had  the  spirit  of  poesy,  it 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  praise  of  ale  has  been  duly 
honoured  in  song  and  story.  Poetry  is  indigenous  to  the  country, 
foeta  nascitur  non  Jit^  and  the  ploughboy  alternately  whistles  the 
airs  and  sings  the  words  of  the  plaintive  love-songs,  or  the  more 
stirring  lays  of  feasting  and  fighting,  as  he  ploughs  the  breezy 
upland  slopes  where  in  due  time  the  yellow  com  ripens  in  the  long 
golden  rigs,  and  the  mountain  tops  glow  afar  off  with  their  ever 
changing  tints  and  hues. 

''  The  blue  mountains  glow  in  the  sun's  golden  light." 

And  the 

*<  Lasses  are  lilting  before  the  break  of  day." 


364  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  Scotch,  however,  though  a  poetical,  hare  ever  been  a 
practical  nation,  and  the  art  of  brewing  is  maintained  m  all  its 
native  supremacy,  and  a  gbss  of  prime  Edinbro'  ale  there  is 
a  thing  to  remember,  whether  it  be  brewed  by  Younger  or 
Disher.  These  drinks  are  known  and  properly  appreciated  by 
Southerners  as  by  Hielandman,  and  like  the  Scot  abroad,  they 
do  not  ''go  bock  again,"  when  once  they  have  crossed  the  Border. 
Alloa,  again,  must  be  the  very  Burton  of  the  north,  considering 
that  it  maintains  seven  breweries,  where,  in  common  with  all 
the  others  in  the  country,  the  ''National  Guardian"  keeps 
constant  watch  and  ward  over  the  Brewer's  interests. 
•  All  the  songs  breathe  a  kindly  social  spirit.  Royalty  must 
of  course  come  first,  m  the  person  of  Old  King  Cole,  who 
flourished  in  the  fifth  century.  He  ruled  over  Coila  or  Ayr- 
shire, and  was  the  father  of  Fin  M'Coul  the  giant.  The 
history  of  his  domestic  life  is  founded  on  facu  which  appear 
in  Scottish  history ;  the  particular  record  now  given  was  taken 
from  Herd's  Archives: — 

The  Life  and  Death  of  Old  Kino  Cole. 
The  last  new  Version. 

Old  King  Cole  was  a  merry  old  soul. 

And  a  merry  old  soul  was  he; 
He  caird  for  his  pipe,  he  call'd  for  his  glass. 

And  he  call'd  for  his  fiddlers  three. 
There  was  Paganini  and  Spagnioletti, 

And  to  make  up  the  three,  Mori; 
For  King  Cole  he  was  fond  of  a  tri 

O fond  of  a  trio  was  he. 

For  old  King  Cole,  &c. 

Old  King  Cole  kept  court  at  the  "Hole 

O'  the  wall"  in  Chancery — 
— Lane,  near  the  street,  which  is  termM  "Fleet," 

(A  queer  name  for  Chanceree,) 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  365 

So  his  subjects  to  cloak,  from  the  very  provok — 

— iDg  bills  of  an  attomee. 
Old  King  Cole  tura'd  his  eyes  to  Coke, 

And  a  very  good  lawyer  was  he. 
For  old  King  Cole,  &c 

Old  King  Cole,  though  a  noerry  old  soul, 

Not  read  nor  write  could  he ; 
For  to  read  and  write,  'twere  useless  quite. 

When  he  kept  a  secretaree. 
So  his  mark  for  ^  Rex  "  was  a  single  <<  X  " 

And  his  drink  was  ditto  double; 
For  he  scom'd  the  fetters  of  four  and  twenty  letters, 

And  it  say'd  him  a  vast  deal  of  trouble. 
For  old  King  Cole,  &c. 

Old  King  Cole,  was  a  musical  soul, 

So  he  calPd  for  his  fiddlers  three; 
And  he  serr'd  'em  out  a  dozen  pounds  of  best  German  resin, 

And  they  play'd  him  a  symphony. 
Spagnioletti  and  Mori,  they  played  an  oratori. 

While  the  great  Paganini 
Play'd  ^  God  save  the  King  "  on  a  single  string, 

And  he  went  twelve  octaves  high. 

For  old  Eking  Cole,  6cc. 

Old  King  Cole  lov'd  smoking  to  his  soul. 

And  a  pipe,  hard,  clean,  and  dry; 
And  Virgmny  and  C'naster  from  his  baccy-box  went  faster, 

Than  the  «*  Dart,"  or  the  "  Brighton  Fly." 
With  his  fiddlers  three,  and  his  secretaree, 

He'd  kick  up  such  a  furious  fume. 
You'd  think  all  the  gas  of  London  in  a  mass, 

Had  met  in  his  little  back-room. 

For  old  Eking  Cole,  &c. 


366  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Old  KjDg  Cole  was  a  mellow  old  soul, 

And  he  lov'd  for  to  lave  his  clay. 
But  not  with  water,  for  he  had  m  that  quarter. 

An  hydrophobia. 
So  he  always  ordered  hemp  for  those  that  join'd  a  temp- 

— erance  society ; 
And  he  swore  a  drop  too  much,  should  always  finish  such 

As  refuse  for  to  wet  t'other  eye. 

For  old  King  Cole,  &c. 


On  old  King  Cole's  left  cheek  was  a  mole, 

So  he  call'd  for  his  secretaree; 
And  he  bade  him  look  in  a  fortune-telling  book. 

And  read  him  his  destiny. 
And  the  secretary  said,  when  his  ^te  he  had  read, 

And  cast  his  nativity: 
A  mole  on  the  face,  boded  something  might  take  place. 

But  not  what  that  something  might  be. 
For  old  King  Cole,  &c. 


Old  King  Cole,  he  scratched  his  pole, 

And  resigned  to  his  fate  was  he ; 
And  he  said  it  is  our  will,  that  our  pipe  and  glass  you  fiW, 

And  call  for  our  fiddlers  three. 
So  Paganini  took  Viotti  in  by, 

And  his  concerto  play'd  he ; 
But  at  page  forty-four  King  Cole  began  to  snore. 

So  they  parted  company. 

For  old  King  Cole,  &c. 


Old  King  Cole  drank  so  much  alcohol, 

That  he  reek'd  like  the  worm  of  a  still ; 

And  while  lighting  his  pipe,  he  set  himself  alight, 
And  he  blew  up  like  a  gunpowder  mill. 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  367 

And  these  are  the  whole  of  the  records  of  King  Cole, 

From  the  Cotton  Library, 
If  you  like  you  can  see  'em  at  the  British  Museum, 

In  Russell  Street,  Bloomsbury. 

For  old  King  Cole,  &c. 

His  subjects  duly  followed  the  example  of  their  King: — 


We're  a  Noddin. 

Music — at  Wybrow's, 

We*re  a'  noddin,  nid,  nid,  noddin, 
We're  a'  noddin,  at  our  house  at  hame. 

Gude  e'en  to  you,  Kimmer,  and  how  do  ye  do  ? 
Hiccup— quo'  Kimmer,  the  better  that  I'm  fbu, 
We're  a'  noddin,  &c. 

Kate  tits  i'  the  neulc,  sippin'  hen  broo, 
Deil  take  Kate,  and  she  be  na  noddin  too ! 
We're  a'  noddin,  &c. 

How's  a'  wi'  you,  Kimmer,  and  how  do  ye  fare  ? 
A  pint  o'  the  best  o't,  and  twa  pints  mair. 
We're  a  noddin,  &c. 

How's  a'  wi'  you,  Kimmer,  and  how  do  ye  thrive  ? 
How  mony  bairns  hae  ye  .'—quo'  Kimmer,  I  hae  five. 
We're  a'  noddin,  &c. 

Are  they  a'  Johnny's  ? — Eh !  atweel  na ; 
Twa  o'  them  were  gotten  when  Johnny  was  awa'. 
We're  a'  noddin.  &c. 

Cats  like  milk  weel,  and  dogs  like  broo. 
Lads  like  lasses  weel,  and  lasses  lads  too. 
We're  a'  noddin,  &c. 


368  In  Praise  of  AU. 

Kail-Brose  o'  aulo  Scotland. 

WhcD  our  ancient  forefathers  agreed  wi'  the  laird. 
For  a  piece  o'  gude  ground  to  be  a  kail-yaird, 
It  was  to  the  brose  that  they  paid  their  regard. 
Oy  the  kail-broae  o'  auld  Scotland, 
And  Oy  the  Scottish  kail-brose. 

When  Fergus,  the  first  of  our  lungs,  I  suppose, 
At  the  head  of  his  nobles  had  vanquished  our  foes. 
Just  before  they  began,  they'd  been  feasting  on  brose. 
O,  the  kail-brose,  &c. 

Our  sodgers  were  dress'd  in  their  kilts  and  short  hose, 
Wi'  their  bonnets  and  belts,  which  their  dress  did  compose. 
And  a  bag  of  oatmeal  on  their  backs  to  be  brose. 
O,  the  kail-brose,  &c. 

At  our  annual  election  for  bailies  or  mayor, 
Nae  kickshaws  o'  puddins  or  tarts  were  seen  there ; 
But  a  cog  o'  gude  brose  was  the  favourite  fare. 
O,  the  kail-brose,  &c. 

But  now  since  the  thistle  is  join'd  to  the  rose. 
And  the  English  nae  langer  are  counted  our  foes. 
We've  lost  a  good  deal  o'  our  relish  for  brose. 
O,  the  kail-brose,  &c. 

Yet  each  true-hearted  Scotsman,  by  nature  jocose. 
Likes  always  to  feast  on  a  cog  o'  gude  brose ; 
And  thanks  be  to  heav'n,  we've  plenty  o'  those. 
O,  the  kail-broee,  &c. 

Cauld  Kail  in  Aberdeen. 

There's  cauld  kail  in  Aberdeen, 

And  castocks  in  Stra'bogie ; 
Gin  I  hae  but  a  bonny  lass, 

Ye're  welcome  to  your  cogie, 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  369 

And  ye  may  dt  up  a'  the  night, 
And  drink  till  it  be  braid  day-light : 
Gae  me  a  lass  that's  clean  and  tight. 
To  dance  the  reel  o'  Bogie. 

In  cotillons  the  French  excel; 

John  Boll  in  country  dances; 
The  Spaniards  dance  fandangoes  well. 

Mynheer  an  Al'mande  prances; 
In  foursome  reels  the  Scots  delight. 
At  threesome  they  dance  wondrous  light. 
But  twasome  ding  a'  out  o'  sight, 

Danc'd  to  the  reel  o'  Bogie. 

Come  lads,  and  view  your  partners  well, 

Wale  each  a  bijrthesome  rogie ; 
ril  talc  this  lassie  to  mysel. 

She  looks  sae  keen  and  vogie : 
Now,  piper  lad,  bang  up  the  spring, 
The  country  fashion  is  the  thing, 
To  prie  their  mou's  ere  we  begin 

To  dance  the  reel  o'  Bogie. 

Now  ilka  lad  has  got  his  lass, 

Save  yon  auld  doited  fogie, 
And  ta*en  a  fling  upon  the  grass, 

As  they  do  in  Stra'bogie : 
But  a'  the  lasses  look  sae  fain, 
We  canna  think  oursels  to  hain, 
For  they  maun  hae  their  come-again 

To  dance  the  reel  o'  Bogie. 

Now  a'  the  lads  hae  done  their  best, 

Like  true  men  0'  Stra'bogie ; 
Well  stop  a  while  and  uk  a  rest. 

And  tipple  out  a  cogte. 

2    A 


370  t^  Praise  of  Ale. 

Come  DOW,  my  lads,  and  tak  your  glass. 
And  try  each  other  to  surpass, 
In  wishing  health  to  every  lass, 
To  dance  the  reel  o'  Bogie. 


The  Three  Gir'd  Cog. 
-^ir— ••There's  Cauld  KaU  in  Aberdeen." 

There's  cauld  kail  in  Aberdeen, 

And  castocks  m  Stra'bogie, 

And  ilka  lad  maun  hae  his  lass. 

But  I  maun  hae  my  cogie. 

For  I  maun  hae  my  cogie,  sirs, 

I  canna  want  my  cogie  ; 
I  wadna  gi'e  my  three  gir'd  cog 
For  a'  the  \vires  in  Bogie. 

Johnny  Smith  has  got  a  wife 

Wha  scrimps  him  o'  his  cogie ; 
But  were  she  mine,  upon  my  life 
I'd  dook  her  in  a  bogie. 

For  I  maun  hae  my  cogie,  sirs, 

I  canna  want  my  cogie, 
I  wadna  gi'e  my  three  gir'd  cog, 
For  a'  the  wives  in  Bogie. 

Twa  three  toddlin'  vreans  they  hae, 

The  pride  o'  a  Stra'bogie ; 
Whene'er  the  totums  cry  for  meat, 
She  curses  aye  his  cogie. 

Crying  "  Wae  betide  the  three  gir'd  cog ! 

Oh,  wae  betide  the  cogie ! 
It  does  mair  skaith  than  a'  the  ills 
That  happen  in  Stra'bogie." 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  371 

She  fand  him  ance  at  Willie  Sharpe's, 

And  what  the  maist  did  laugh  at, 
She  brak  the  Incker,  spilt  the  drink, 
And  tight'ly  gouflPM  his  haflet. 

Crying  "  Wae  betide  the  three  gir'd  cog ! 

Ohy  wae  betide  the  cogie! 
It  does  mair  skaith  than  a'  the  ills 
That  happen  in  Stra'bogie." 

Yet  here's  to  ilka  honest  soul 

Wha'U  drink  wi'  me  a  cogie, 

And  for  ilk  silly  whinging  fool. 

We'll  dook  him  in  the  bogie. 

For  I  maun  hae  my  cogie,  sirs, 

I  canna  want  my  cogie, 
I  wadna  gi'e  my  three  gir'd  cog. 
For  a'  the  wives  in  Bogie. 

This  song  was  popular  in  Aberdeenshire  in  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  There  are,  at  least,  half-a-dozen  Scottish 
songs  parodies  upon,  or  emendations  of,  this.  One,  by  Alex, 
ander,  fourth  Duke  of  Gordon,  appears  among  the  miscellaneous 
songs  in  this  volume,  and  a  second  was  printed  in  Herd's  collec- 
tion. 

The  Old  Man's  Consolation. 

I. 

Come  carls  a'  of  fumblers'  ha' 

And  I  will  tell  you  of  our  fate, 
Since  we  have  married  wives  that's  braw. 

And  canna  please  them  when  'tis  late: 
A  pint  well  tak  our  hearts  to  cheer; 

What  £iults  we  have  our  wives  can  tell; 
Gar  bring  us  in  baith  ale  and  beer. 

The  auldest  bairn  we  hae's  ourseU. 

a  A  2 


372  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

u. 

Christening  of  weans  we  are  rid  of. 

The  parish  priest  'tis  he  can  tell. 
We  aw  him  naught  but  a  grey  groat. 

The  otilering  for  the  house  we  dwell. 
Our  bairn's  tocher  is  a'  paid. 

We're  masters  of  the  gear  our  seP ; 
Let  either  weal  or  wae  betide. 

Here's  a  health  to  a'  the  wires  that's  yell. 

III. 

Our  neebor's  auld  son  and  the  lass. 

Into  the  bam  amang  the  strae. 
He  grips  her  in  the  dark  be  guess, 

And  after  that  comes  muckle  wae. 
Repentance  ay  comes  after  him, 

It  costs  the  carl  both  com  and  hay ; 
We're  quat  of  that  with  little  din. 

Sic  crosses  haunt  ne'er  you  nor  I. 

IV. 

Now  merry,  merry  may  we  be. 

When  we  think  on  our  neebor  Robie, 
The  way  the  carl  does,  we  see, 

Wi'  his  auld  son  and  his  daughter  Maggie ; 
Boots  he  maun  hae,  pistols,  why  not. 

The  hussy  maun  hae  corkit  shoon : 
We  are  nae  sae ;  gar  fill  the  pot. 

We'll  drink  to  a'  the  hours  at  e'en. 

V. 

Here's  a  health  to  John  Mackay  well  drink. 
To  Hughie,  Andrew,  Rab,  and  Tam ; 

We'll  sit  and  drinks  we'll  nod  and  wink. 
It  is  o'er  soon  for  us  to  gang. 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  373 

Foul  h'  the  cock,  he's  ipilt  the  pby. 

And  I  do  trow  he's  but  a  fool, 
We'll  sit  the  while,  'tis  king  to  day. 

For  a'  they  rave  at  YooL 


Smce  we  have  met,  we'll  merry  be» 

The  foremost  hame  shall  bear  the  mell ; 
ril  set  me  down,  lest  I  be  free. 

For  fear  that  I  shoa'd  bear  mysel. 
And  I,  quoth  Rab,  and  down  sat  he, 

The  gear  shall  never  me  outride. 
But  we'll  take  a  soup  of  the  barley-bree, 

And  drink  to  our  yill  beside. 


Up  in  the  Morning  Eaiily. 
(From  the  collection  of  Manuscript  Songs  by  Peter  Buchan.) 

Up  in  the  morning,  up  in  the  morning. 

Up  in  the  morning  early; 
Frae  night  till  mora  our  squires  they  sat, 

An'  drank  the  juice  o'  the  baHey. 
Some  they  spent  but  ae  hauf-crown. 

And  some  six  crowns  sae  rarely; 
In  the  alewife's  pouch  the  siller  did  clink. 

She  got  in  the  noofning  early. 

Up  in  the  morning  early,  &c. 

I  hae  got  fou,  Beldoraie  cried; 

Wardess  replied,  I  am  fbu  tee; 
Then  said  Darlicha,  Beware  o'  a  £1', 

An'  baud  by  the  wa'  as  I  dee. 

Up  in  the  nx>rning  eariy,  &c. 


3  74  J^  Praise  cf  Ale. 

Be  wyllie,  mj  boysy  be  wise,  mj  boys, 
Lat  sorrow  gae  through  your  thinking; 

Gin  ye  haud  on  as  ye  hae  begun. 
Your  pouches  will  leave  afF  clinking. 
Up  in  the  morning  early,  &c. 


We  will  gae  hame,  said  Lord  Aboyne; 

Na,  sit  awhile,  quo'  Towie; 
Oh,  never  a  foot,  said  Lochnievar, 

As  lang's  there's  beer  in  the  bowie. 
Up  in  the  morning  early,  &c. 


There  they  sat  the  lee-lang  night. 
Nor  stirr'd  till  the  sun  shone  early ; 

Then  made  an  end  as  they  began. 
And  gaed  hame  in  the  morning  early. 
Up  in  the  morning  early,  &c. 

The  <<  boon  companions  "  named  in  this  song  were  all  Aberdeen- 
shire gentlemen.  The  Lord  Aboyne  was  afterwards  Duke  of 
Gordon,  and  author  of  one  of  the  versions  of  the  song  of  **  Cauld 
Kail  in  Aberdeen," 


AuLD  Lang  Syne. 

This  is  so  well  known  that  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  reprint  it. 
No  Scottish  gathering  could  close  amicably  without  its  being  sung 
in  its  characteristic  manner.  The  <<  richt  gude-willie  waught "  in 
the  invitation  to  the  friend  to  stand  his  pint-stoup  first,  indicates 
that  the  song  is  essentially  a  beer  song. 

The  words  are  generally  attributed  to  Bums,  but  he  himself 
did  not  claim  the  credit  of  it,  but  stated  that  he  took  it  down  from 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  375 

an  old  mao*8  nngiDg.     The  air  is  said  to  have  belonged  to  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church. 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot. 

And  never  brought  to  min'  ? 
Should  auld  acquainunce  be  forgot 
And  the  days  of  auld  lang  syne. 
For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear. 

For  auld  lang  syne. 
We'll  tak  a  cup  of  kindness  yet 
For  auld  lang  syne. 


We  twa  hae  ran  about  the  braes, 

And  pou'd  the  gowans  fine ; 
But  we've  wander'd  mony  a  weary  fit 

Sm*  auld  lang  syne. 
For  auld,  &c. 

We  twa  hae  paidl'd  in  the  burn 

Frae  morning  sun  till  dine, 
But  seas  between  us  braid  hae  roar'd 

Sin'  auld  lang  syne. 
For  auld,  &c. 

And  there's  a  hand,  my  trasty  frien', 

And  gie's  a  hand  o'  thine, 
And  we'll  tak  a  richt  gude-willie  waught 

For  auld  lang  syne. 
For  auld,  6cc. 

And  surely  ye'll  be  your  pint-stoup, 

And  surely  I'll  be  mine ; 
And  we'll  tak  a  cup  of  kindness  yet, 

For  auld  laug  syne. 
For  auld,  &c. 


376  In  Praise  of  Ale. 


GuDEwiFE,  Count  the  Lawin. 

Robert  Burns. 

Gane  is  the  day,  and  mirk's  the  night. 
But  well  ne'er  stray  for  faot  o'  light ; 
For  ale  and  brandjr's  stars  and  moon. 
And  Unde-red  wine's  the  risbg  sun. 

Then,  godewife,  count  the  lawin, 

The  lawin,  the  lawin. 

Then,  gudewife,  count  the  lawin, 
And  bring  a  coggie  mair. 

There's  wealth  and  ease  for  gentlemen, 
And  semple  folk  maun  fecht  and  fen', 
But  here  we're  a'  in  ae  accord. 
For  ilka  man  that's  drunk's  a  lord. 
Then,  gudewife,  &c. 

My  coggie  b  a  haly  pool. 
That  heals  the  wounds  o'  care  and  dool ; 
And  pleasure  is  a  wanton  trout. 
An  ye  drink  but  deep,  ye'Il  find  him  out 
Then,  gudewife,  6cc. 


A    C0GI£   O'    YlLL. 

Andrew  Sheriffs,  1787. 

« 

^^— «  A  Cogie  o'  Yill.' 


A  cogie  o'  yill 
And  a  pickle  aitmeal. 
And  a  dainty  wee  drappie  o*  whisky, 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  377 

Was  our  forefathers'  dose 
For  to  sweep  down  their  brose. 
And  keep  them  a^re  cheery  and  frisky. 

Then  hey  for  the  whisky,  and  hey  for  the  meal. 
And  hey  for  the  cogie,  and  hey  for  the  yill ; 
Gm  ye  steer  a'  thegither,  they'll  do  unco  wed 
To  keep  a  chiel  cheery  and  brisk  aye. 

When  I  see  our  Scots  lads, 

Wi'  their  kilts  and  cocauds. 
They  sae  often  hae  lounder'd  our  foes,  man  ; 

I  think  to  mysel' 

On  the  meal  and  the  yill. 
And  the  fruits  o'  our  Scottish  kail-brose,  man. 
Then  hey,  &c. 

When  our  brave  highland  blades 

Wi'  their  claymores  and  plaids. 
In  the  field  drive  like  sheep  a'  our  foes,  man  ; 

Their  courage  and  power 

Spring  firae  this  to  be  sure, 
They're  the  noble  effects  o'  the  brose,  man. 
Then  hey,  &c. 

But  your  spindle  shank'd  sparks, 

Wha  sae  ill  fill  their  sarks, 
Your  pale-fisaged  milk-sops  and  beaux,  roan  ; 

I  think  when  I  see  them, 

'Twere  kindness  to  gie  them 
A  cogie  o'  yill  or  o'  brose,  man. 
Then  hey,  &c. 

What  John  Bull  despises, 

Our  better  sense  prizes, 
He  denies  eadn*  blanter  ava,  man ; 

But  by  eadn'  o'  blanter, 

His  mare's  grown,  I'll  warrant  her, 
The  manliest  brute  o'  the  twa,  man. 
Then  hey,  &c. 


378  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Sab  Will  We  Yet. 

From  ^Whisde  Binkie,"  1838.     Published  anonymously,  but 

understood  to  be  by  Robert  Nichol. 

Come  sit  down,  my  cronies,  and  gie  us  your  crack, 
Let  the  win'  tak'  the  cares  0'  this  world  on  its  back ; 
The  langer  we  sit  here  and  drink^  the  merrier  will  we  get — 
We've  ajre  been  provided  for,  and  sae  will  we  3ret. 

Then  bring  us  a  tankard  o'  nappy  gude  ale, 

To  cheer  up  our  hearts,  and  enliven  our  tale ; 

Till  the  house  be  rinnin'  roun'  about,  it's  time  enough  to  flit — 

We've  aye  been  provided  for,  and  sae  will  we  yet. 

May  the  taxes  come  ofiP,  that  the  drink  may  be  cheap, 
And  the  yill  be  as  plentiful  as  gin  it  were  a  spate ; 
May  the  enemies  o'  liberty  ere  lang  get  a  kick — 
They've  ajre  gott'n  't  hitherto,  and  sae  shall  they  yet 

Now,  God  bless  the  Queen,  an'  aye  prosper  her  days. 
For  I'm  sure  that  Her  Majesty  has  baith  meat  and  claes  ; 
And  lang  on  the  throne  o'  her  faithers  may  she  sit — 
They've  aye  been  provided  for,  and  sae  will  they  yet. 

Then  push  round  the  jorum,  and  tak  afT  your  dram. 
An'  laugh  and  be  thankfu'  as  lang  as  ye  can ; 
For  seed-time  and  harvest  ye  ever  shall  get. 
When  ye  fell  ye  aye  got  up  again,  and  sae  will  ye  yet 


Sanct  Mungo. 

Alexander  Rodger. 

From  **  Whisde  Binkie."  Mungo  is  the  patron  saint  of  the 
Glasgow  Cathedral.  The  Molendinar  Bum,  alluded  to  in  the 
third  line,  is  the  Glasgow  Lethe  that  separates  the  two  great 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  379 

repositories  of  mortality — the  churchyard  of  the  Cathedral  and 
the  Necropolis. 

Sanct  Mungo  wals  ane  famous  sanct, 

And  ane  cantye  carle  wals  hee. 
He  drank  o'  ye  Molendinar  Bume, 

Quhan  bettere  hee  culdna  prie. 

Yit  quhan  he  culd  gette  strongere  cheere. 

He  neuer  wals  wattere  drye. 
But  dranke  o'  ye  streame  o*  ye  wimpland  worme. 

And  loot  ye  bume  rynne  bye. 

Sanct  Mungo  wals  ane  merrye  sanct, 

And  merryljre  hee  sang  ; 
Quhanever  hee  liltit  uppe  his  sprynge. 

Ye  very  Firre  Park  rang. 

But  thock  he  weele  culd  lilt  and  synge. 

And  mak  sweet  melodye, 
He  chaunttt  aye  ye  bauldest  straynes 

Quhan  prymed  wi'  barlye-bree. 

Sana  Mungo  was  ane  godlye  sanct, 

Far-&roed  for  godlye  deedis. 
And  grete  delyte  he  dayle  took 

Inn  count3rnge  owre  hys  beadis. 

Yit  I,  Sanct  Mungo's  youngeste  sonne, 

Can  count  als  welle  als  hee ; 
Butte  ye  beadis  quhilk  I  like  best  to  count, 

Are  ye  beadis  o'  barlye-bree. 

Sanct  Mungo  wab  ane  jolly  sanct : — 

Sa  weele  hee  lykit  gude  yil, 
Thatte  quhyles  hee  naynede  hys  quhyte  besture, 

Wi'  dnbblands  o'  ye  still. 


380  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Butte  1»  hys  maist  unwordye  soone^ 
Have  gane  als  farre  as  hee, 

For  ance  I  tynde  my  garmente  skirds, 
Throuch  lufe  o*  barlye-bree. 


Daft  Days. 

By  Hew  Ainslie.     First  published  in  **  Whistle  Binkie/*  First 

Series,  1838. 

'*  The  midnight  hour  is  clinking,  lads, 
An'  the  douce  an'  the  honest  are  winking,  lads, 

Sae  I  tell  ye  again, 

Be 't  weel  or  ill  u'en, 
It's  time  ye  were  quatting  your  drinking,  lads." 

**  Gae  ben  an'  mind  your  gantry,  Kate, 
Gie's  mair  o'  your  beer,  an'  less  bantry,  Kate, 

For  we  vow  whar  we  sit. 

That  afore  we  shall  flit. 
We'll  be  better  acquent  wi'  your  pantry,  Kate. 

'*  The  daft  days  are  but  beginning,  Kate, 
An'  we've  sworn,  (wad  ye  hae  us  be  sinning,  Kate?) 

By  our  faith  an'  our  houp, 

We  shall  stick  by  the  stoup, 
As  lang  as  a  barrel  keeps  rinning,  Kate. 

<*  Through  spring  an'  through  simmer  we  moil  it,  Kate, 
Through  hay  an'  through  harvest  we  toil  it,  Kate; 

Sae  ye  ken,  when  the  wheel 

Is  beginning  to  squeel. 
It's  time  for  to  grease  and  to  oil  it,  Kate. 

**  Then  score  us  anither  drappy,  Kate, 
An'  gie  us  a  cake  to  our  cappy,  Kate ; 
For,  by  spigot  an'  pin, 
It  were  mair  than  a  sin 
To  flit  when  we're  sitting  sae  happy,  Kate. 


i» 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  381 

Scotia's  Sons  hae  aye  Been  Free* 

By  M'Phaily  io  Chambers'  Scot  Songs. 

Blythe,  blythe^  around  the  nappie^ 

Let  us  join  in  social  glee^ 
While  we're  here  we'll  hae  a  drappie, 
Scotia's  sons  hae  vye  been  free. 
Our  auld  forbears,  when  ower  their  yill, 

And  cande  bickers  round  did  ca', 
Forsooth  1  they  cried,  anither  gill ! 
For  sweirt  we  are  to  gang  awa. 
Blythe,  blythe,  &c. 

Some  hearty  cock  would  then  hae  sung 

An  old  Scotch  sonnet  aff  wi'  glee, 
Syne  pledged  his  cogue :  the  chorus  rung 

Attld  Scotia  and  her  sons  are  free. 
Blythe,  blythe,  &c. 

Thus  crack,  and  jokes,  and  sangs  gaed  roun\ 
Till  mom  the  screens  o'  light  did  draw; 

Yet,  dreich  to  rise,  the  carles  roun'. 
Cried,  Deoch  an  dhoras,  then  awa ! 
Blythe,  blythe,  &c. 

The  landlord  then  the  nappie  brings. 

And  toasts,  **  Fu'  happy  a'  may  be," 
Syne  tooms  the  cogue;  the  chorus  rings 

Auld  Scotia's  sons  shall  aye  be  free. 
Blythe,  blythe,  &c 

Then  like  our  dads  0'  auld  lang  syne, 

Let  social  glee  unite  us  a'. 
Aye  blythe  to  meet,  our  mous  to  weet. 

But  aye  as  sweirt  to  gang  awa  1 
Blythe,  blythe,  &c. 


382  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

A  Tavern  Scene. 

Now  but  and  bea  the  change-house  fills 

Wi'  yill-caup  commeDtators — 
Here's  crying  out  for  cakes  and  gills. 

And  there  the  pint-stoup  clatters. 
While  thick  and  thrang,  and  loud  and  lang — 

Wi'  logic  and  wi'  scripture, 
They  raise  a  din  that  in  the  end 

Is  like  to  breed  a  rupture 

O'  wrath  that  day.         {Bums'  "  Holy  Fairy) 

And  thou,  great  god  of  aqua-vitae ! 
Wha  sways  the  empire  of  this  city, 
(When  fou  we're  sometimes  capemoity) 

Be  thou  prepared, 
To  save  us  frae  that  black  banditti 

The  City  Guard. 

(Fergusson's  ''Daft  Days:') 

The  following  appeared  in  the   **  Gentleman's  Magazine  "  for 

«7S4:— 

An  ale  house  is  called  a  change,  and  the  person  who  keeps  it  a 
gentleman  ;  nor  is  it  uncommon  to  see  a  lord  dismount  from  his 
horse,  and,  taking  one  of  these  gentlemen  in  his  arms,  make  him 
as  many  compliments  as  if  he  were  a  brother  peer,  and  the  reason 
is  that  the  alehouse-keeper  is  of  as  good  a  femily  as  any  in  Scot- 
land, and  perhaps  has  taken  his  degree  as  master  of  arts  at  the 
university. 

ToDLEN  But,  and  Todlen  Ben. 
Ramsay*!  Tea  Tailt  Miscellany, 

When  I  hae  a  saxpence  under  my  thumb. 

Then  I  get  credit  in  ilka  toon ; 

But  ay  when  I'm  poor,  they  bid  me  gang  by  ; 

O  !  poverty  parts  good  company. 

Todlen  hame,  todlen  hame, 
Couldna  my  love  come  todlen  hame. 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  383 

Fair-&*  the  gudewife,  and  send  her  good  sale, 

She  gi'es  us  white  bannocks  to  drink  her  ale. 

Syne  if  that  her  dppeny  chance  to  be  sma^ 

We'll  tak*  a  good  scoot  o't,  and  ca't  awa. 
Todlen  hame,  todlen  hame. 
As  round  as  a  neep  comes  todlen  hame. 

My  kimmer  and  I  lay  down  to  sleep. 

And  twa  pint-stoups  at  our  bed's  feet ; 

And  aye  when  we  waken'd,  we  drank  them  dry — 

What  think  ye  of  my  wee  kimmer  and  I. 
Todlen  but,  and  todlen  ben, 
Sae  round  as  my  love  comes  todlen  hame. 

Leeze  me  on  liquor,  my  todlen  dou, 

Ye're  ay  sae  gude  humour'd  when  weeting  your  mou ; 

When  sober  sae  sour,  ye'll  fight  wi'  a  flee. 

That  'tis  a  blythe  nght  to  the  bairns  and  me. 
When  todlen  hame,  todlen  hame, 
When  round  as  a  neep  ye  come  todlen  hame. 

The  Social  Cup. 

By  Charles  Gray. 

The  gloaming  saw  us  a'  sit  down, 

And  mickle  mirth  has  been  our  fa'; 
But  ca'  the  other  toast  aroun'. 
Till  chanticleer  begins  to  craw. 

Blythe,  blythe,  and  merry  are  we, 

Blythe  are  we,  ane  an  a' ; 
Aften  hae  we  canty  been, 
But  sic  a  nicht  we  never  saw. 

The  auld  kirk  bell  has  chappit  twal' ; 

Wha  cares  though  she  had  chappit  twa. 
We're  licht  o'  heart,  and  winna  part. 

Though  time  and  tide  should  rin  awa« 
Blythe,  blythe,  kc. 


384  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

Tut!  never  speir  how  wears  the  moon. 

The  moon's  still  blinkin'  i'  the  sky ; 
And  gif  like  her  we  fill  our  horn, 

I  dinna  doubt  we'll  drink  it  dry. 

Blythe,  blythe,  &c., 

Should  we  gang  by  the  Auld-klrk-hatch,* 
Or  round  the  haunted  humlock  knowe, 

Auld  Clootie  there  some  chield  might  catch, 
Or  fleg  us  wi*  a  worricow ! 

Blythe,  blythe,  &c. 

Then  fill  us  up  a  social  cup, 

And  never  mind  the  dapple  dawn ; 
Just  sit  awhile,  the  sun  may  smile, 

And  light  us  a'  across  the  lawn. 

When  brewing  was  done  by  women  (Ale  Wives),  who  after- 
wards retailed  their  liquor,  they  occasionally — as  many  other 
publicans  have  done — drank  the  profits.  Here  is  a  sad  picture 
of  a  dissipated  old  lady,  taken  from  Peter  Buchan's  collection  : — 

The  Ale  Wife  and  her  Barreu 

My  mind  is  vex'd  and  sair  perplex'd, 

I'll  tell  you  all  that  grieves  me, 
A  drunken  wife  I  hae  at  hame. 
Her  noisome  din  aye  deaves  me. 

The  ale-wife,  the  drunken  wife, 
The  ale  wife,  she  grieves  me ; 
My  wifie  and  her  barrellie, 
They'll  ruin  me  and  deave  me. 

She  takes  her  barrel  on  her  back, 

Her  pint-stoup  in  her  hand, 
And  she  is  to  the  market  gane. 

For  to  set  up  a  stand. 
The  ale-wife,  &c. 

*  A  haunted  spot  near  Anttnither,  in  Fife,  the  residence  of  the  author. 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  385 

And  whan  she  does  come  hame  again. 
She  wides  through  girae  and  corn. 

Says,  I  maun  hae  anither  pint, 
Though  I  should  beg  the  morn. 
The  ale-wife,  &c* 

She  sets  her  banel  on  the  ground 

And  travels  but  and  ben ; 
1  canna  get  my  wifie  keepit 

Out  amo'  the  men. 
The  ale-wife,  flee 

We  might  well  pity  the  hud3and  of  such  a  wee  wifie  ;  Roy's 
wife  was  nothing  to  her: — 

Roy's  wife  of  Ardivalloch,  Roy's  wife  of  Ardi?alloch, 

And  while  she  is  wife  to  me, 

Is  life  worth  living,  Mr  Malloch  ? 

A  learned  pundit  has  declared  with  great  truth  that  one  never — 
well  hardly  ever — meets  with  a  celebrated  brewery  without  finding 
traces  of  an  abbey  or  monastery  hard  by.  The  monks  knew 
from  reason  and  experience  where  the  best  water  was  to  be 
obtained,  and  hence  pitched  their  camp  on  the  spot  where  they 
could  brew  the  best  beer.  The  Song  of  the  Abbey  Brewery 
has  special  reference  to  that  of  Messrs  W.  Younger  flc  Co., 
who  keep  up  the  monkish  custom  of  brewing  jolly  good  ale 
and  old. 

Thb  Song  of  thb  Abbsy  Bbewbby. 

By  A.  B. 

Tune^Tht  Whale. 

It  was  in  seventeen  hundred  and  forty-nine. 

What  matters  the  month  or  day. 
That  the  Abbey  Brewery  was  launched  afloat, 

And  merrily  steered  away.     Brave  boys ! 

With  a  fal  la  U.  flee. 

?   B 


386  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  smoke  of  the  battle  of  Prestonpans 

Had  DOt  long  cleared  away. 
When  William  the  first  took  to  the  work 

Of  moisteniDg  Scotchmen's  clay.     Brave  boys ! 

Had  Charlie  just  delayed  a  bit. 

Till  that  auspicious  day» 
On  riding  into  Holj^rood, 

When  Cope  ran  the  other  way.     Brave  boys! 

Oh  what  a  rare  right  royal  draught. 

He  might  have  qua£fed  ofiP  then. 
By  sending  across  the  palace  yard. 

For  a  horn  often  times  ten.*     Brave  boys! 

Then  Willie  brewed  a  peck  o'  maut. 

And  didn't  he  brew  it  well  ? 
The  browst,  has  it  not  stood  the  test? 

The  wide,  wide  world  can  tell.     Brave  boys ! 

From  Shetland's  bleak  and  rugged  shore, 

To  the  Borders  of  the  land. 
Across  the  line — from  Yankee  States — 

To  eastern  Samarcand.     Brave  boys ! 

Our  good  old  ship  has  well-nigh  sailed 

A  hundred  and  fifty  years, 
And  for  her  future  piloting, 

There  never  need  be  fears.     Brave  boys  ! 

On  the  quarter  deck,  and  at  the  helm, 

At  the  compass,  on  the  look-out. 
There  have  always  been,  and  there  are  now. 

Men  who  know  what  they're  about     Brave  boys  ! 

*  100/  Ale. 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  387 

Then  success  to  the  Brewery  in  days  to  come, 

As  success  has  crowned  the  past. 
May  the  ship  ever  sail  with  a  favouring  gale. 

With  good  men  before  the  mast.     Brave  boys  I 

In  a  curious  old ; Scotch  ballad,  **  Dying  Words  of  John 
Dalgleish,  Lockman  aliai  Hangman  of  Edinburgh,"  among  the 
verses  are  these ; — 


**  Wha  in  the  town  could  tell  my  tale 
I  brewed  my  own  Strang  nappie  ale 
The  fhbwives  gave  me  right  good  sale, 

Nae  gZMgtv  fellows 
Came  near  me  for  to  touch  a  peal, 

Fear'd  for  the  gallows. 


When  a'  the  Brewers  were  run  dry 
And  drunkards  gae  the  wearie  cry. 
What  will  we  do,  thro'  drowth  we'll  dy. 

They  minded  me. 
Came  louping  in,  few  folk  went  by. 

And  blyth  were  we. 
Etc.,  etc. 

The  next  epigram,  by  the  Rev.  Mr  S.,  of  Magdalen,  is  some- 
what varied : — 

A  drunken  old  Scot  by  the  rigorous  sentence 
Of  the  kirk  was  condemn'd  to  the  stool  of  repentance. 
Mess  John  to  his  conscience  his  vices  put  home. 
And  the  danger  in  tliis  and  the  world  that's  to  come: 
Thou  reprobate  mortal !  why,  dost  thou  not  know 
Whither,  after  your  death,  all  you  drunkards  must  go  ? 
Must  go  when  we're  dead  ?  why,  sir,  you  may  swear. 
We  shall  go,  one  and  aU,  where  we  find  the  best  beer. 

2  12 


388  In  Prmse  of  Ale. 

The  Scotch  did  not  miDd  a  joke  at  their  own  expense : — 

^  To  save  a  maid  St  George  a  dragon  dew, 
A  braue  exployt  if  all  yat  sayed  be  treue. 
Some  think  ther  be  no  dragons ;  nay,  'tis  sa/d 
Tber  was  no  George ;  pray  God  ther  be  a  maid  ? " 

^  O !  John  Carnegie  in  Dunlappie, 
ThoQ  hast  a  wife  baith  blythe  and  sappie, 
A  bottle  that  is  baith  whyte  and  nappie ; 
Thou  sits,  and  with  thy  little  cappie 
Thou  drinks,  and  never  leaves  a  drappie. 
Until  thou  deepest  like  a  tappie ; 
O  1  were  I  John,  I  would  be  happie !  " 

From  the  notes  to  the  *'  Bride  of  Lamroermoor  *'  we  find  that 
it  was  the  universal  custom  to  place  ale,  wine,  or  some  strong  liquor, 
in  the  chamber  of  an  honoured  guest,  to  assuage  his  thirst,  should 
he  feel  any,  on  awaking  in  the  night,  which,  considering  hospitality 
often  reached  excess,  was  by  no  means  unlikely. 

It  is  a  current  story  in  Teviotdale  that  in  a  house  of  an  ancient 
family  of  distinction,  much  addicted  to  the  Presbyterian  cause,  a 
Bible  was  always  put  into  the  sleeping  apartment  of  the  guest  along 
with  a  botde  of  strong  ale.  On  one  occasion  there  was  a  meeting 
of  clergymen  m  the  vicmity  of  the  castle,  all  of  whom  were 
mvited  to  dinner  by  the  worthy  baronet,  and  several  abode  all 
night.  According  to  the  fashion  of  the  times  seven  of  the  rever- 
end guests  were  allotted  to  one  large  barrack-room,  which  was 
used  on  such  occasions  of  extended  hospitality.  The  butler  took 
care  that  the  divines  were  presented  each,  according  to  custom, 
with  a  Bible  and  a  bottle  of  ale.  But,  after  a  little  consultation 
among  themselves,  they  are  said  to  have  recalled  the  domestic  as 
he  was  leaving  the  apartment.  *^  My  friend,''  said  one  of  the 
venerable  guests,  **  you  must  know  that,  when  we  meet  together 
as  brethren,  the  youngest  minister  reads  aloud  a  portion  of  the 
Scripture  to  the  rest ;  only  one  Bible,  therefore,  is  necessary  : 
take  away  the  other  six,  and  in  their  place  bring  six  more  bottles 
of  ale.'' 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  389 

Odd  figures  were  some  of  those  Border  ministen.  There  was 
the  reverend  but  drunken  Mr  Potts,  of  Ettrick,  who  often,  astride 
a  stone  wall,  would  pull  off  his  wig,  and  with  it  bdabour  his 
fancied  steed.  Mr  Paton,  his  successor,  had  a  morbid  fondness 
for  witnessing  executions.  His  stipend  was  ^^45  ;  and  his  manse 
fell  bto  such  sad  disrepair  that  the  outer  door  had  to  be  barred 
with  a  wheelbarrow,  which  kept  out  the  cow  and  the  pig,  but  not 
the  poultry,  whilst  a  folio  of  Matthew  Henry  stopped  up  a  hole 
in  the  floor.  Then  there  was  Dr  Doughu,  of  Galashiels,  who 
combmed  brewing  and  money-lending  with  his  ministerial  fimctions. 
At  after-synod  meetings,  when  some  of  the  brethren  were  loath 
to  leave  whist-playing  even  for  supper,  he  might  be  heard 
exclaiming,  ^  Gentlemen,  hold  up  jrour  hands  till  the  grace  is  said." 

From  the  Rev.  Andrew  Edgar's  ''  Old  Church  Life  in  Scot- 
land," we  find  that  the  conduct  of  ministers,  by  the  members  of 
the  old  kirk  sessions,  was  closely  looked  after  in  a  somewhat 
surreptitious  manner.  His  conduct  was  canvassed  as  to  whether 
he  was  a  haunter  of  ale-houses.  Was  he  a  swearer  of  small 
minced  oaths.  Such  as,  before  God,  it  is  so.  I  protest  before 
God,  or.  Lord  what  is  that  ?  Saw  ye  him  ever  drink  healths  ? 
Doth  he  restrain  abuses  at  penny-weddings  ?  And  a  whole  host 
of  other  inquisitorial  details  followed. 

In  a  provincial  council  held  in  Scotland,  a.d  1225,  it  was 
ordered  that  no  layman  should  sing  at  the  burial  or  obsequies  of 
the  dead.  '*  Item  ad  funera  et  exequies  mortuorum  laicorum 
cantus  vel  choreas  fieri  prohibemus,  cum  non  deceat  de  aliorum 
fletu  ridere,  sed  ibidem  potius  de  hujusmodi  dolere."  Wijkins, 
G)ncil,  V.  I,  p.  61 7.  This  prohibition  implies  it  to  have  been  a 
practice  in  that  country,  as  it  certainly  was  in  England;  and 
most  probably,  the  persons  who  had  exercised  their  vocal  talents 
at  the  celebration  of  a  mass  of  Requiem,  became  afterwards 
ballad  singers  at  the  Give-ale. 

A.D.  1223.  Consdt.  Ricard.  Poor  ep'i  Sarura.  Adhuc 
prohibemus,  ne  chorese  vel  turpes  et  inhonesti  ludi,  qui  ad  las- 
civiam  invitant,  fiant  ccemeteriis.  Ibid.,  p.  600,  A.  1 2  40, 
Constit.  W.  de  Cantilup  ep'i  Wigom.     Ad  servendam  quoque 


390  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

tam  coemeterii  quam  ecdesiae  reverentiain,  prohibernus,  oe  in 
ccnneteriis  vel  aliis  locis  tacratU — ludi  $ant  inhonesti,  maxime  in 
sanctorom  yigiliisy  et  festis  ecclesiarum,  quod  potius  in  dedecus 
aanctii  cedere  norimus  quam  honorem,  pracsumptoribus  et  sacer- 
dotibuSy  que  haM:  snsdnuerint  fieri,  canonice  coercendis.  Ibid, 
p.  666^  A.  1287.  Synod.  Exon.  dioc.  a  Petro  de  Quivil 
episcopo.  £t  quia  in  coemeteriiB  dedicads  multa  sanctorum  et 
nl?andorum  corpora  tumulantur,  quibus  debetur  omnis  bonor  et 
reverentia;  sacerdodbus  parochialibus  districte  prxcipimus,  ut 
in  eccledis  suis  denundent  publice,  ne  quisquam  luctas,  choreas, 
▼el  alios  ludos  inhonestos  in  ccemeteriis  exercere  przsumat,  prz- 
dpue  in  Tigiliis  et  (esds  sanctorum,  cum  hujusmodi  ludos  theatrales 
et  ludibria  spectacula  introductos  per  quos  ecclesiarum  coinquinatur 
honestas,  sacri  ordines  detestantur.  Quod  si  aliqui  post  factam 
denunciadonem.  Judos  hujusmodi,  quamquam  improprie  dictos,  eo 
quod  ex  eis  crimina  oriuntur,  exercuerint,  predicte  sacerdotes 
eorom  nomina  lod  archidiacono  vel  ipsius  officiale  denuncient,  ut 
ipsi  pro  suis  demeritis  canonice  puniantur.  Ibid.  vol.  ii.,  p.  I40. 
A.  1308.  Consdt.  synodal,  per  Henricum  Woodloke,  epi 
Winton. — Praedpimus  et  in  ipds  (ccemeteriis)  in  sanctorum 
fesdvitadbus  aut  aliis  luctae  non  fiant,  aut  choreas  ducantur,  vel-alii 
ludi  spectabiles  habeantur. 

The  annexed  dirge  on  the  death  of  Alexander  iii.,  of  Scotland, 
obiit  1285,  is  the  oldest  spedmen  of  the  printed  Scottish  of  that 
period  extant,  and  alludes  to  ale  as  the  nadonal  beverage. 

Quhen  Alysandyr;  our  Icyng,  wes  dede, 

That  Scodand  led  in  luive  and  le,* 
Away  wes  sons  of  ale  and  brede, 

Of  wyne  and  wax,  of  gamyn  and  gle ; 
Oure  gold  we  changyd  into  lede, 

Chryst  boon  into  virgynyte, 
Succour  Scotland  and  remede 

That  stad  is  m  perplexyte. 

From  WyntowrCs  CronykiL 

«  And  Gaffer  Treadwell  told  us  by-the-bye 
Excessive  sorrow  was  exceeding  dry." 

•  /.f.,  Tranquillity. 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  391 

DeaD  Ramsay  in  his  *<  Reminiscences  of  Scottish  Life  and 
Character"  tells  of  the  big  drinks  with  which  funerals  were 
celebrated.  On  one  occasion  the  churchyard  was  about  ten 
miles  distant  from  where  the  death  occurred.  It  was  a  short  day 
in  November,  and  when  the  funeral  party  came  to  the  churchyard, 
the  shades  of  night  had  considerably  closed  in.  The  graTedigger, 
whose  patience  had  been  exhausted  in  waiting,  was  not  in  the 
least  willing  to  accept  the  chief  mourner's  apology  for  delay.  After 
looking  about,  he  put  the  anxious  question,  <<  But,  Capt'n,  whaur*! 
Miss  Kitty  ? "  The  reply  was,  "  In  her  coffin  to  be  sure,  and  get 
it  mto  the  earth  as  fast  as  you  can."  There,  however,  was  no 
coffin ;  the  procession  had  sojourned  at  a  country  inn  by  the  way 
— had  rested  the  body  on  a  dyke — started  without  it,  and  had  to 
postpone  the  interment  until  next  day. 

Such  notions,  continued  the  Dean,  of  what  is  due  to  the 
memory  of  the  departed  have  now  become  unusual  if  not  absolete. 
I  officiated  at  the  funeral  of  the  late  Duke  of  Sutherland.  The 
procession  was  a  mile  long.  Refreshments  were  provided  for 
7,000  persons ;  beef,  bread,  and  beer :  but  not  one  glass  of  whisky 
was  allowed  on  the  property  that  day. 

Another  unknown  author  describes  the  sorrows  and  consola- 
tions of  a  bereaved  wife : — 

^  She  sits  in  her  room,  in  the  deepest  of  gloom. 
Weeping  her  bright  eyes  red ; 
She  sits  by  the  beer,  and  sheds  many  a  tear. 
Because  her  dear  husband  is  dead." 

Scotlamd's  ScArrH. 

This  k>ng  and  doleful  ballad,  written  about  1 794-$,  by  Hector 
Macneil,  relates  the  sad  history  of  Will  and  Jean.  Will  and  his 
brother-crofters  were  seduced  by  a  buxom  widow  who  kept  the 
village  mn : — 

Down  below,  a  flowery  meadow 
Joined  the  bumie's  rambling  line — 

Here  it  was  that  Howe  the  Wmow 
This  same  day  set  up  her  sign. 


392  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Brattling  down  the  brae,  and  near  its 

Bottom,  Will  first  marvelin'  sees 
P0RTER9  Ale,  and  Brhish  Spouts, 

Painted  bright  between  twa  trees. 

M  God  sakes !  Tam,  here's  walth  for  drinking — 

Wha  can  this  new  comer  be  I — 
Hoot !  quo'  Tam,  there's  drouth  in  thinking — 

Let's  in.  Will,  and  syne  we'll  see." 

Nae  mair  time  they  took  to  speak,  or 

Think  o'  ought  but  reaming  jugs ; 
Till  three  times  in  humming  liquor 

Ilk  lad  deeply  laid  his  lugs. 

Slocken'd  now,  refi^eshed  and  talking. 

In  cam  she,  weel  skill'd  to  please ; 
**  Sirs !  ye're  surely  tyr'd  wi'  walking. 

Ye  maun  taste  my  bread  and  cheese." 

The  bread  and  cheese  led  to  more  drinking  for  the  good  of  the 
house,  when  some  more  neighbours  dropping  in,  they  made  a  night 
of  it,  and  founded  a  bi-weekly  political  club,  and  took  in  the 
paper: — 

'*  Ilk  ane's  wiser  than  anither ; 

Things  are  no  ga'en  right,  quo'  Tam, 
Let  us  oftener  meet  together. 
Twice  a  week's  not  worth  a  damn." 

The  ax-night  club  was  too  much  for  Will's  purse  and  person 
to  stand,  and  he  came  to  grief  in  consequence.  But  in  the  mean- 
time, Jeannie  had  taken  to  whisky,  with  sad  results : — 

^  Things  at  length  draw  near  an  ending, 
Cash  rins  out :  Jean  quite  unhappy, 
Sees  that  Will  is  now  past  mending, 
Tynes  a'  heart,  and  takes  a  drappy. 


Sccfcb  Ale  Songs.  393 

**  Ilka  drink  deseires  a  posey. 

Fori  makes  men  rude.  Claret  ciWl ; 
Beer  makes  Briton's  stout  and  rosy, 
Whiihy  makes  ilk'  wife — a  deviL 

The  end  of  this  long  story  is  that  they  are  sold  up.  Will  goes 
for  a  soldier,  and  after  years  of  suffering  rejoins  his  wife  a  crippled 
pensioner ;  and  they  are  successfully  started  again  in  life,  by  the 
then  Duchess  of  finccleugh.    The  chief  moral  of  this  story  is 

*<  That  Beer  makes  Britons  stout  and  rosy. 
Whisky  makes  ilk  wife  a  deril." 

Here  is  a  fiir  better  picture  of  Scottidi  life,  written  by 
Robert  Bums  to  John  Lepraik,  author  of  ^  Scottish  Domestic 
H^piness." 

Epistle  to  John  Lef&4ik. 

There  was  ae  sang,  amang  the  rest, 
Aboon  them  a'  it  pleased  me  best, 
That  some  kind  husband  had  addrest 

To  some  sweet  wife ; 
It  thirl'd  the  heart-strings  through  the  breast, 

A*  to  the  life. 

I've  scarce  heard  aught  described  sae  wed, 
What  generous,  manly  bosoms  feel ; 
Thought  I,  can  this  be  Pope,  or  Steele, 

Or  Seattle's  wark  i 
They  uuld  me  'twas  an  odd  kind  chiel 

About  Muirkirk« 

It  pat  me  fidgin'  fain  tae  hear% 
And  sae  about  him  there  I  spiert ; 
Then  a'  that  kent  him  round  declared 

He  had  ingine. 
That  nane  exceUed  it,  few  cam  near't. 

It  was  so  fine. 


394  f^  Praise  of  Ale. 

That,  see  him  to  a  pint  of  ale^ 

An'  either  douce  or  merry  tale, 

Or  rhymes  an'  sangs  he'd  made  himsel'y 

Or  witty  catches, 
'Tween  Inverness  and  Teviotdale 

He  had  few  matches. 

Then  up  1  gat,  an'  swoor  an'  aith. 

Though  I  should  pawn  my  pleugh  an'  graith, 

Or  die  a  cadger  pownie's  death 

At  some  dyke-back, 
A  pint  and  gill  I'd  give  them  baith 

To  hear  your  crack. 


The  Winds  Whistlb  Cold. 

The  following  capital   song  is  from  the  opera  of  '*  Guy 
Mannering,"  written  by  Daniel  Terry  (1780 1828). 

The  winds  whistle  cold, 

And  the  stars  glimmer  red ; 
The  flocks  are  in  fold, 

And  the  cattle  in  shed. 
When  the  hoar  frost  was  chill 
Upon  moorland  and  hill. 

And  was  fringing  the  forest  bough. 
Our  fitthers  would  troul 
The  bonny  brown  bowl ; 

And  so  will  we  do  now. 

Jolly  hearts ! 
And  so  will  we  do  now. 

Gafier  winter  may  seize 

Upon  milk  in  the  pail ; 
'Twill  be  long  ere  he  freeze 

The  bold  brandy  and  ale  ; 


Scotch  AU  Songs.  395 

For  our  fathers  so  bold. 
They  laugh'd  at  the  cold. 

When  Boreas  was  bending  his  brow  ; 
For  they  quaffed  mighty  ale. 
And  they  told  a  blithe  tale ; 
And  80  will  we  do  now. 

Jolly  hearts ! 
And  so  will  we  do  now. 


ExasE. 

In  1272  a  duty  by  gauge  was  placed  upon  wine ;  but  it  is  not 
until  1 482  that  we  find  the  manufacture  of  beer  or  ale  in  Scot- 
land noticed  by  the  government,  although  it  abounded  in  that 
country  long  before  (Acts,  Jac.  3,  c.  89).  At  the  Union  a  duty 
Mras  introduced,  similar  in  point  of  regulation  to  that  imposed  in 
England.  On  two-penny  ale^  which  was  the  principal  mali  drmi 
in  use  at  the  time,  it  was  rated  at  2s.  i  ^.  per  barrel.  Several 
alterations  followed,  but,  in  proportion  to  the  advance  of  duty, 
the  work  of  the  brewery  decreased.  In  1 760  the  excise  stood 
at  3s.  4^d.  per  barrel. 

Bums'  Exciseman  finds  a  parallel  in  an  English  song  I  quoted 
earlier : — 


The  Exas£MAN. 
Tune — ^  The  deil  cam  fiddling  through  the  toon. 


» 


The  deil  cam  fiddling  through  the  town, 

And  danced  awa  wi'  the  exciseman. 
And  ilka  wife  cries,  **  Auld  Mahoun, 
I  wish  ye  luck  o'  the  prize,  man ! " 
The  deil's  awa,  the  deil's  awa, 

The  deil's  awa  wi'  the  exciseman ; 
He's  danced  awa,  he's  danced  awa. 
He's  danced  awa  wi'  the  exciseman. 


39^  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

We'll  mak  our  roaut,  we'll  brew  our  drink, 
We'll  dance,  and  sing,  and  rejoice,  man  ; 
And  mony  braw  thanks  to  the  meikle  black  deil 
That  danced  awa  wi'  the  exciseman. 
The  deil's  awa,  the  deil's  awa^ 

The  deil's  awa  wi'  the  exciseman ; 
He's  danced  awa,  he's  danced  awa. 
He's  danced  awa  wi'  the  exciseman. 

There's  threesome  reels,  there's  foursome  reels, 

Xhere's  hornpipes  and  strathspeys,  man ; 
But  the  ae  best  dance  e'er  cam  to  the  land 
Was,  the  deil's  awa  wi'  the  exciseman. 
The  deil's  awa,  the  deil's  awa. 

The  deil's  awa  wi'  the  exciseman  ; 
He's  danced  awa,  he's  danced  awa, 
He's  danced  awa  wi'  the  exciseman. 

There  is  something  of  the  ring  of  jolly  good  ale  and  old,  in  the 
next  song  of  Bums : — 

Oh,  Gude  Ale  Comes. 

Oh,  gude  ale  comes,  and  gude  ale  goes ; 
Gude  ale  gars  me  seU  my  hose, 
Sell  my  hose,  and  pawn  my  shoon ; 
Gude  ale  keeps  my  heart  aboon. 

I  had  sax  owsen  in  a  pleuch, 
And  they  drew  teuch,  and  weel  eneuch : 
I  sell'd  them  a' — ^just  ane  by  ane ; 
Gude  ale  keeps  my  heart  aboon. 

Gude  ale  bauds  me  bare  and  busy. 
Gars  me  moop  wi'  the  servant  hizzie, 
Stand  i'  the  stool  when  I  hae  done ; 
Gude  ale  keeps  my  heart  aboon. 


&t        Ale  Songs.  397 

Ohy  gude  ale  comes,  and  gude  ale  goes ; 
Gude  ale  gars  me  sell  my  hosey 
Sell  my  hose,  and  pawn  my  sboon  ; 
Gude  ale  keeps  my  heart  aboon. 


O,  WiLUE  Brew'd  a  Peck  o'  Maut. 

0»  Willie  brewM  a  peck  o'  maut. 

And  Rob  and  Allan  cam'  to  see ; 
Three  blither  hearts,  that  lee-lang  night. 

Ye  wadna  found  in  Christendie. 
We  are  na  fu',  we're  nae  that  fu'. 

But  just  a  drappie  in  our  ee ; 
The  cock  may  craw,  the  day  may  da'. 

And  ay  we'll  taste  the  barley  bree. 

Here  are  we  met,  three  merry  boys, 
Three  merry  boys,  I  trow,  are  we ; 

And  mony  a  night  we've  merry  been. 
And  mony  mae  we  hope  to  be. 
We  are  na  fu',  &c. 

It  is  the  moon,  I  ken  her  horn. 

That's  blinking  in  the  lift  sae  hie ; 
She  shines  sae  bright  to  wyle  us  hame, 

But  by  my  sooth  she'll  wait  a  wee  ! 
We  are  na  fu',  &c« 
Wha  first  shall  rise  to  gang  awa', 

A  cuckold,  coward  loon  is  he ! 
Wha  first  beside  his  chair  shall  fa', 

He  is  the  King  amang  us  three. 
We  are  na  fii',  &c. 

By  the  way,  the  punishment  of  the  cucking  or  ducking  stool 
was  not  limited  to  the  punishment  of  shrews  exclusively,  but  the 
ale-wives  had  to  sufier  that  infliction  when  they  deserved  it.  Ac- 
cording to  Sir  John  Skene,  in  his  **  Regiam  Majestatem,"  it  was 


398  In  Praise  cf  Ale. 

a  common  mode  of  punishment  in  Scotland  In  the  Burrow 
LaweSy  chap.  69,  in  allusion  to  Browsters — that  is,  '^wemen 
quha  brewes  aill  to  be  sauld  " — ^it  is  said :  <<  Gif  she  makes  gude 
ail,  that  is  sufficient;  but  gif  she  makes  evill  ail,  contrair  to  the 
use  and  consuetude  of  the  burgh,  and  is  convict  thereof,  she 
sal  pay  ane  unlaw  of  aucht  shillinges,  or  sal  suffer  the  justice 
of  the  burgh — that  is,  she  sal  be  put  upon  the  cock  stule,  and 
the  ail  sal  be  distributed  to  the  pure  folk.'' 

In  England  the  punishment  of  the  cucking  stool  was  also 
awarded  to  brewers  of  either  sex.  We  find  in  the  Domesday 
Book  that  any  man  or  woman  who  brewed  bad  ale  at  Chester  had 
the  option  of  a  fine  of  four  shillings,  or  be  placed  in  stercovis^  in 
modem  words,  in  the  limbo  of  the  ducking  stool ;  and  Blount 
says  that  this  punishment  was  in  use  among  the  Saxons. 

I  have  quoted  Bums'  version  of  *<John  Barleycorn,"  with 
other  songs  of  that  ilk,  under  the  heading  of  ^  Malt  and  Barley," 
and  now  will  wind  up  these  songs  with  a  dance,  the  words 
composed  by  the  Rev.  John  Skinner : — 

TULLOCHGORUM. 

Come  gie's  a  song,  Montgomery  cried. 
And  lay  your  disputes  a'  aside ; 
What  signifies  't  for  folks  to  chide 

For  what's  been  done  before  them. 
Let  Whig  and  Tory  a'  agree, 
Whig  and  Tory,  Whig  and  Tory, 
Whig  and  Tory  a*  agree 

To  drop  their  Whigmigorum. 
Let  Whig  and  Tory  a*  agree 
To  spend  the  night  with  mirth  and  glee, 
And  cheerfu'  sing  alang  wi'  me 

The  reel  o'  TuUochgorum. 

O,  Tullochgoram's  my  delight. 
It  gars  us  a'  in  ane  unite. 
And  ony  sumph  that  keeps  up  spite, 
In  conscience  I  abhor  him. 


Scotch  Ale  Songs.  399 

For  btjrtbe  and  ineny  we'll  be  a', 
BIytbe  and  meny,  biythe  and  mernr, 
Blytbe  and  merry  we'll  be  a'. 

And  make  a  cheerfu'  quoninu 
For  Ufdte  and  meny  well  be  a', 
Ai  laog  at  we  hae  breath  to  draw. 
And  dance,  till  we  be  like  to  h', 

The  reel  o'  Tullochgorum. 

There  needi  di  be  lae  great  a  fraue, 
Wi'  drioging  dull  Italian  layt ; 
I  wadua  gie  our  ain  Arathipeyi, 

For  hauf-a-hnnder  score  o"  'em. 
They're  dowF  and  dowie  at  the  best. 
Dowf  and  dowie,  dowf  and  dowie, 
They're  dowf  and  dowie  at  the  beat, 

Wi'  a'  their  variorum. 
They're  dowf  and  dowie  at  the  bett, 
Their  jt&grot,  and  a'  the  rett : 
Tbey  caona  please  a  Highland  taste, 

Compared  wi'  Tullochgorum. 

Let  warldly  minds  themKlres  oppren 
Wi'  fears  o'  want  and  double  cen. 
And  ally  iota  themaeltet  dutren 

Wi'  keepng  up  decorum. 
Shall  we  Be  tour  and  sulky  sit  i 
Soar  and  sulky,  sour  and  sulky, 
Sour  and  sulky  shall  we  sit* 

Like  auld  Philosophorum ! 
Shall  we  lae  sour  and  sulky  rit, 
Wi'  onther  sense,  nor  mirth,  nor  wit. 
Nor  CTcr  rise  to  shake  a  Sit 

To  the  reel  o'  Tullochgorum  ? 

May  choicest  blesnnga  aye  attend 
Each  honest,  open-hearted  Friend, 
And  calm  and  <]iiiet  be  his  end. 

And  a'  that's  gude  watch  o'er  him. 


400  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

May  peace  and  plenty  be  his  lot. 
Peace  and  plenty,  peace  and  plenty. 
Peace  and  plenty  be  his  lot, 

And  dainties  a  great  store  o'  em ; 
May  peace  and  plenty  be  his  lot, 
UnstainM  by  ony  vicious  blot. 
And  may  he  never  want  a  grot. 

That's  fond  o*  Tullochgorum ! 

But  for  the  discontented  fool 
Who  loves  to  be  oppression's  tool. 
May  envy  gnaw  his  rotten  soul. 

And  discontent  devour  him  ! 
May  dool  and  sorrow  be  his  chance, 
Dool  and  sorrow,  dool  and  sorrow, 
Dool  and  sorrow  be  his  chance. 

And  nane  say,  wae's  me  for  him : 
May  dool  and  sorrow  be  his  chance. 
And  a'  the  ills  that  come  frae  France, 
Whae'er  he  be  that  winna  dance 

The  reel  o'  Tullochgorum ! 

The  foregoing  selection  is  far  from  complete,  but  it  is  a  fairly 
representative  one,  and  shows  the  richness  as  well  as  the  ^  wut  and 
humour  "  that  pervades  the  language,  especially  when  good  ale  is 
in  question,  and  now  I  will  conclude  with  a  toast  by  Sir  James 
Boswell: — 

<'  Gude  night,  and  joy  be  wi'  you  a' ; 

Your  harmless  mirth  has  cheered  my  heart : 
May  life's  fell  blasts  out  ower  ye  blaw ; 

In  sorrow  may  ye  never  part ! 
My  spirit  lives,  but  strength  is  gone, 

The  mountain  fires  now  blaze  in  vain ; 
Remember,  sons,  the  deeds  I've  done. 

And  in  your  deeds  111  live  again." 


40I 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LOCAL  AND  DIALECT  SONGS. 

**  No  boarded  sweets  of  Gredatt  store 
Did  e'er  the  Jttie  Bee  prowde^ 
That  could  a  purer  flavour  yields 
Than  yields  the  comb  this  hive  eontmns^ 
Though  euUedfrom  no  Hesperian  fleU 
But  the  wild  growth  of  Britain* s  plains  J* 

Local  and  dialect  tongs  have  a  double  Talue,  as  they  illustrate 
the  popular  sentiment  in  quaint  and  telling  language;  a  little 
exaggerated,  perhaps,  but  that  is  pardonable  enough.  **  Boston 's 
The  Hub  of  the  Universe ; "  and  this  sentiment  prevails  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  remotest  villages.  And  what  quaint  old- 
world  reminiscences  do  these  provincialisms  convey  to  our  minds  \ 
The  songs,  generally  speaking,  are  of  the  home,  homely. 

Yorkshire,  I  believe,  rejoices  in  old  stingo  and  the  praises 
thereof,  more,  perhaps,  than  any  other  county  in  England ;  and 
Yorkshiremen  were  always  famed  for  hospitality  and  good  cheer. 
When  Squire  Worthy  welcomes  Dr  Syntax,  he  says — 

^  I  have  no  Greek  or  Latin  lingo 
But  a  fresh  tap  of  Foaming  stingo—" 

Again,  Canning  celebrates  the  doings  at  Roebuck  Hall — 

Whereat  a  group  (his  worship's  lackeys) 
Of  squires,  parsons,  grooms,  and  jockeys, 
Were  met  to  testify  their  zeal. 
And  closely  ply  his  honour's  ale ; 
When  loaded  well  with  good  October 
To  bed  they  tumbled,  drunk  or  sober. 

2  c 


402  In  Praise  of  Ale, 

Mr  GUes  Warrington,  of  Northallerton,  York,  in '1697, 
celebrated  the  virtues  of  Yorkshire  ale  in  an  epic,  describmg 
the  doings  of  gods  and  noen : — 


Praise  of  Youlshi&e  Ale. 

Bacchus  haying  cali'd  a  |Kirlianient  of  late, 

For  to  consult  about  some  things  of  state. 

Nearly  concerning  the  honour  of  his  court. 

To  th'  «<  Sun  "  behind  th'  Exchange  they  did  resort ; 

Where  being  met  and  many  things  that  time 

Concerning  the  adulterating  wine 

And  other  liquors ;  selling  of  ale  in  mugs  ; 

Silver  tankards,  black  pots,  and  little  jugs ; 

Strong  beer  in  rabbits  and  cheating  penny  cans. 

Three  pipes  for  two-pence,  and  such  like  trepans : ' 

And  many  other  things  were  then  debated. 

And  bills  past,  upon  the  cases  stated ; 

And  all  thbgs  ready  for  adjournment,  then 

Stood  up  one  of  the  northern  country  men, 

A  boon  good  fellow  and  a  lover  of  strong  ale. 

Whose  tongue  well  steeped  in  sack,  began  his  tale : 

"  My  buUy  rocks,  I've  been  experienced  long 

In  most  of  liquors  that  are  counted  strong 

And  several  others,  but  none  do  I  find 

Like  *  bumming  northern  ale  to  suit  my  mind ; 

It  is  pleasant  to  the  taste,  strong  and  mellow. 

He  that  affects  it  not,  is  no  boon  fellow ; 

It  warms  in  winter,  in  summer  opes  the  pores, 

'Twill  make  a  sovereign  salve  'gainst  cuts  and  sores ; 

It  ripens  wit,  exhilarates  the  mind, 

Makes  friends  of  foes,  and  foes  of  friends  full  kind ; 

It's  physical  for  old  men,  warms  their  blood. 

Its  spirits  makes  the  coward's  courage  good ; 

*  Hum  meant  strong  liquor  :  hence  humming  ale— strong  ale. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  403 

The  tatter'd  beggar  being  warm'd  with  ale» 
Nor  nuoy  hail,  frost,  nor  snow  can  him  assail ; 
He's  a  good  man  with  him  can  then  compare. 
It  makes  a  'prentice  great  as  the  Lord  Mayor; 
The  laboring  man  that  toils  all  day  full  sore, 
A  pot  of  ale  at  night  does  him  restore, 
And  makes  him  all  his  toil  and  pains  forget. 
And  for  another  day's  work  he's  then  fit ; 
There's  more  in  drinking  ale  sure  than  we  wot. 
For  most  ingenious  artists  have  a  pot. 
•  ••••• 

Soldiers  and  gownmen. 
Rich  and  poor,  old  and  young,  lame  and  sound  men, 
May  much  advantage  reap  by  drinking  ale. 
As  should  I  tell,  you'd  think  it  but  a  tale: 
Oh  the  rare  virtues  of  this  barley  broth ! 
To  rich  and  poor  it's  meat  and  drink  and  cloth." 
The  court  here  stopt  him,  and  the  Prince  did  say: 
"  Where  may  we  find  this  nectar,  1  thee  pray  ? " 
The  boon  good  fellow  answer'd :  **  I  can  tell; 
Northallerton  in  Torksbire  does  exeeU 
AU  England — n jjr,  all  Europe-— for  strong  ale  ; 
If  thither  we  adjourn  we  shall  not  fail 
To  taste  such  humming  stuff  as,  I  dare  say. 
Your  Highness  never  tasted  to  this  day." 
They,  hearing  this,  the  house  agreed  upon 
All  for  adjournment  to  Northallerton: 
Madam  Bradley  s  was  the  chief  house  then  nam'd, 
There  they  must  taste  this  noble  ale  so  fam'd 
And  nois'd  abroad  in  each  place  far  and  near; 
Nay,  take  it,  Bradley,  for  strong  ale  and  beer — 
Thou  hast  it  loose — there's  none  can  do  so  well. 
In  brewing  ale  thou  dost  all  else  excell. 
Adjournment  day  being  come,  there  did  appear 
A  brave  full  house — Bacchus  himself  was  there. 
This  nectar  was  brought  in,  each  had  his  cup, 
But  at  the  first  they  did  but  sipple  up 

2  c  2 


404  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

This  rare  ambrosia ;  but  finding  that 

Twas  grateful  to  the  taste,  and  made  them  chat. 

And  laughy  and  talk,  O  then,  when  all  was  out, 

They  call'd  for  more,  and  drank  full  cans  about. 

Off*  went  their  perriwigs,  coats,  and  rapers, 

Out  went  the  candle,  noses  for  tapers 

Senr'd  to  give  light,  whilst  they  did  dance  around, 

Drinking  full  healths  with  caps  upon  the  ground ; 

And  still  as  they  did  dance  their  roundelays. 

They  all  did  cry:  '^This  drink  deserves  the  bays 

Above  all  liquors  we  have  ever  tasted ; 

It's  a  pity  that  a  drop  of  it  were  wasted." 

These  antic  sights  made  Bacchus  to  admire. 

And  then  he  did  begin  for  to  enquire 

What  privileges  were  bestowed  upon 

This  famous  ale  town  of  Northallerton. 

The  answer  was  that  it  was  known 

To  have  four  fairs  i'  th'  year,  a  borough  town. 

One  market  every  week,  and  that  was  all. 

This  mov^  Bacchus  presently  to  call 

For  a  great  jug,  which  held  about  five  quarts. 

And  filling  it  to  the  brim,  "  Come  here,  my  hearts," 

Said  he,  "  we'll  drink  about  this  merry  health 

To  the  honour  of  their  town,  their  state,  and  wealth ; 

For  by  the  essence  of  this  drink  I  swear 

This  town  is  famous  for  strong  ale  and  beer; 

And  for  the  sake  of  this  good  nappy  ale, 

Of  my  great  favour  it  shall  never  &il 

For  to  promote  the  quick  return  of  trade, 

For  all  strong  ale  and  beer  that  is  here  made." 

So  to't  they  went,  and  drank  full  healths  about. 

Till  they  drunk  money,  wit,  and  senses  out; 

For  whilst  one  drop  of  ale  was  to  be  had, 

They  quaft,  and  drunk  it  round  about  like  mad. 

When  all  was  ofiP,  then  out  they  pull'd  the  taps. 

And  stuck  the  spiddocks  finely  in  their  hats; 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  405 

And  80  triumphantly  away  they  went, 

But  they  did  all  agree  with  one  conaent 

To  Easingwold  they  then  away  would  pass. 

With  Nanny  DniHeld  there  to  drink  a  glass; 

They  then  to  famous  York  would  haste  away, 

For  thither  they'd  adjourn  the  court  that  day. 

When  they  to  York  were  come,  they  rov*d  about 

From  house  to  house  to  find  such  nectar  out 

As  they  had  tasted  last,  although  they  heard 

Of  Parker's  coffee-house  i'  th'  Minster  Yard, 

The  several  sorts  of  strong  ale  there  would  find. 

Some  of  which  ale  would  surely  please  their  mind. 

Unto  this  place  they  went  and  crowded  in ; 

"  Come  wench,"  said  they,  **  with  strong  ale  we'll  begin." 

*'  Sir,"  said  the  girl,  ^*  we've  ale  that's  strong  and  old, 

Both  from  NorthaUertm  and  Easingwold^ 

From  Suitottf  Tbinke^  likewise  Rascaltowny 

We've  ale  also  that's  called  knocker-down." 

''  Well  bring  a  tankard  of  each  in,  you  maid. 

Well  ttste  them  every  one,"  the  courtiers  said. 

The  ale  came  in,  each  man  a  tankard  had, 

They  tasted  all,  and  swore  they  were  full  gkd 

Such  stingo,  nappy  pure  ale  they  had  found: 

'*  Let's  lose  no  time,"  said  they,  ''  but  drink  around" 

About  and  about  it  went  full  merrily. 

Till  some  could  neither  go,  stand,  sit,  nor  see. 

They  called  and  drank  till  they  were  all  high  flown. 

And  could  not  find  their  way  into  the  town ; 

They  stagger'd  to  and  fro,  had  such  light  heads. 

That  they  were  guided  all  into  their  beds; 

And  in  the  morning  when  they  did  awake, 

They  curs'd  and  swore  that  all  their  heads  did  ache; 

O  Yorkshire,  Yorkshire  1  thy  ale  it  is  so  strong 

That  it  will  kill  us  if  we  stay  too  long. 

So  they  agreed  a  journey  for  to  make 

Into  the  south,  some  respit  there  to  take; 

But  in  short  space  again,  they  said,  they'd  come 


4o6  In  Praise  of  Ak. 

And  taste  some  more  of  this  said  Yorkshire  hom: 

It  is  so  pleasant,  mellow  too,  and  fine, 

That  Bacchus  swore  he'd  never  more  drink  wine. 


Hull  Ale. 

^<  Were  he  not  warmed  with  Ale^ 
Thu  were  a  bed  but  cM  to  sleep  soundly** 

— Taming  the  Shrew. 

By  the  Rev.  Mr  S.,  of  Magdalen. 

Long  time  did  a  silly  old  proverb  prevail. 
That  meat,  drink,  and  cloth  were  all  found  in  good  ale; 
'Till  a  lover  of  truth  went  on  purpose  to  Hull, 
And,  to  try  an  experiment,  drank  his  skin  fiilL 
He  began  to  see  visions,  his  head  it  tum'd  round, 
'Till  off  from  his  kef&l  he  fell  on  the  ground: 
There  in  trances  profound  our  philosopher  mellow 
Lay  all  night  in  the  snow,  consulting  his  pillow. 
Oracular  vapours  give  prophecy  birth. 
As  Plutarch  reports,  springing  out  of  the  earth : 
Whether  this  was  the  cause,  or  however  inspired. 
Our  sage  gave  a  sentence  will  be  ever  admir'd. 
'Twas  this — I  pronounce  that  good  ale  is  good  meat. 
For  I  find  I  have  no  inclination  to  eat; 
That  good  ale  is  good  cloth  you  may  honesdy  boast. 
For  i'  faith  I'm  as  blithe  and  as  warm  as  a  toast; 
But  to  call  it  good  drink — is  a  lye,  I'll  be  sworn. 
For  I  ne'er  was  so  dry  since  the  hour  I  was  bom, 
The  cloth,  cries  a  punster  who  chanced  to  come  by. 
Must  be  a  good  drap  if  it  kept  you  so  dry. 

There  is  a  wonderful  unanimity  of  opinion  between  the  writer 
of  «*  Jolly  Good  Ale  and  Old,"  the  Rev.  H.  S.,  and  the  hero 
of  the  following  tale  which  appeared  in  the  «  Man  in  the  Moone ; 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  407 

or,  the  English  Fortune  Teller,"  printed  m  1 609.  This  scene 
occurs  between  a  gentleman  and  beggar.  The  gentleman  ofiert 
employment  and  clothing  to  the  beggar,  who  states  that  he  has  a 
suit  of  clothes  in  pawn  for  eightpence,  and  the  gendeman  agrees 
to  redeem  them,  whereupon  the  beggar  leads  his  patron  to  an  ale- 
house, when  ^  The  beggar  called  to  his  hostesse,  saying,  Hostesse, 
bring  hither  my  shirt,  she  brought  him  a  black  pot  of  ale  which 
he  dranke  off;  now,  said  he,  bring  me  my  dublet,  then  she 
brought  him  another  pot  of  ale  which  he  dranke  off;  now  my 
breeches,  another  pot  she  brought  him,  that  he  dranke  off; 
now  bring  my  hose  and  shoes,  then  she  brought  two  blacke 
pots  of  ale,  those  he  dranke  off;  now  my  hatband  and  doake, 
then  she  brought  him  three  blacke  pots  of  ale  which  he  dranke 
off;  when  he  had  done  this,  he  said,  Gentleman,  this  is  the  suite 
I  told  you  off,  and  now  I  have  it,  I  thinke  I  am  as  well 
apparrelled  as  an  emperour.  The  gendeman,  smiling,  paid  for 
this  ale  and  departed.'' 

Richard  Brathwaite,  who  wrote  his  itinera  under  the  nom  de 
plume  of  **  Drunken  Bamabee,"  thus  records  his  experience  of 
Yorkshire  alehouses  in  his  time : — 

The  oyle  of  malt  and  juyce  of  spritely  nectar 
Have  made  my  muse  more  valiant  than  Hector. 


Straight  at  Wakefield  I  was  seen-a. 
Where  I  sought  for  George  a  Grcen-a, 
But  I  could  find  no  such  creature ; 
On  a  sign  I  saw  his  feature, 
Where  the  strength  of  ale  so  stirr'd  me, 
I  grew  stouter  farre  than  Geordie. 

Thence  to  Scaresdale,  where  I  viewed 
An  hall  which  like  a  uvenie  shewed ; 
Neate  gates,  white  walls,  nought  was  sparing. 
Pots  brim-fuU,  no  thought  of  caring  ; 
They  eat,  drink,  laugh,  are  sdll  mirth-making, 
Nought  they  see  that's  worth  care  taking. 


4o8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Thence  to  Kirkland,  thence  to  Kendall^ 

I  did  that  which  men  call  spend-all : 

Night  and  day  with  sociats  many. 

Drink  I  ale  both  thick  and  clammy. 

^  Shroud  thy  head,  boy,  stretch  thy  hand  too. 

Hand  h'as  done,  head  cannot  stand  to." 

COROLLARIS. 

No  bushy  no  garland ;  pot's  thy  bush  and  beare : 
Of  beare  and  bush  thou  smellest  all  the  yeare. 

Foecundi  calicis  quem  non  fecere  disertum — 

O'er  flowing  cups  whom  have  they  not  made  leam'd. 

For  the  world,  I  so  farre  prize  it. 
But  for  liquor  Pd  despise  it ; 
Thousand  deaths  I'd  rather  dye  too, 
Than  hold  ale  my  enemy  too : 
Sober,  lamb-like  doe  I  wander ; 
Drunk,  I'm  stout  as  Alexander. 

Hence  to  Gastile,  [  was  drawne  in 
To  an  alehouse,  neare  adjoining 
To  a  chappell ;  I  drunk  stingo 
With  a  butcher  and  Domingo 
Th'  curat,*  who  to  my  discerning 
Was  not  guilty  of  much  learning. 

The  next  from  the  **  Myrtle  and  the  Vine  "  is  variously  known 
as  a  ghss  of  English  ale  or  a  glass  of  old  stingo,  and  on  that 
account  I  credit  it  to  Yorkshire: — 

Enoush  Ale. 

D'ye  mind  me  ?  I  once  was  a  sailor, 

And  in  diflerent  countries  I've  been  ; 
If  I  lie,  may  I  go  for  a  tailor ! 

But  a  thousand  fine  sights  I  have  seen : 

*  I  askt  him,  What's  a-clock  ?    He  look'd  at  th'  tun, 
But  want  of  Latin  made  him  answer,  Mum. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  409 

I've  been  cnunm'd  with  good  things  like  a  wallet, 
And  I've  guzzled  more  drink  than  a  whale ; 

But  the  very  best  stuff  to  my  palate 
Is  a  glass  of  your  English  good  ale. 

Your  doctors  may  boast  of  their  lotions. 

And  ladies  may  talk  of  their  tea ; 
But  I  envy  them  none  of  their  potions, — 

A  ghss  of  good  stingo  for  me ! 
The  doctor  may  sneer  if  he  pleases. 

But  my  recipe  never  will  fail. 
For  the  physic  that  cures  all  diseases 

Is  a  bumper  of  good  English  ale. 

When  my  trade  was  upon  the  salt  ocean. 

Why  there  I  had  plenty  of  grog ; 
And  I  lik'd  it,  because  I'd  a  notion 

It  sets  one's  good  spirits  agog ; 
But  since  upon  land  I've  been  steering, 

Experience  has  altered  my  tale, 
For  nothing  on  earth  is  so  cheering 

As  a  bumper  of  English  good  ale. 

**  The  Cup  of  Old  Stingo  "  was  a  great  favourite.     I  have 
taken  this  venion  from  the  Merry  Drollery  of  1650 : — 


A  Cup  of  Old  Stinoo. 

There's  a  lusty  liquor  which 

Good  fellows  use  to  take — a. 
It  is  distill'd  with  nard  most  rich. 

And  water  of  the  lake — a; 
Of  hop  a  little  quantity. 

And  barm  to  it  they  bring  too; 
Being  harrell'd  up,  they  call't  a  cup 

Of  dainty  good  old  stingo. 


4IO  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

'Twill  make  a  man  indentures  make, 

Twill  make  a  fool  seem  wise, 
Twill  make  a  Puritan  sociate, 

And  leave  to  be  precise; 
Twill  make  him  dance  about  a  cross. 

And  eke  to  run  the  ring  too, 
Or  anything  he  once  thought  gross, 

Such  virtue  hath  old  stingo. 


Twill  make  a  constable  over  see 

Sometimes  to  serve  a  warrant; 
Tvdll  make  a  bailiff  lose  his  fee. 

Though  he  be  a  knave-arrant; 
Twill  make  a  lawyer,  though  that  he 

To  ruin  oft  men  brings,  too. 
Sometimes  forget  to  take  his  fee 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 

Twill  make  a  parson  not  to  flinch, 

Though  he  seem  wondrous  holy, 
And  for  to  kiss  a  pretty  wench. 

And  think  it  is  no  fblly; 
Twill  make  him  learn  for  to  decline 

The  verb  that's  callM  mngo^ 
Twill  make  his  nose  like  copper  shine. 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 

Twill  make  a  weaver  break  his  yam, 

That  works  with  right  and  Idft  foot. 
But  he  hath  a  trick  to  save  himself. 

Hell  say  there  wanteth  woof  to  't; 
Twill  make  a  tailor  break  his  thread, 

And  eke  his  thimble  ring  too, 
Twill  make  him  not  to  care  for  bread. 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  4 1 1 

Twill  make  a  baker  quite  forget 

That  ever  com  was  cheap. 
Twill  make  a  butcher  have  a  fit 

Sometimes  to  dance  and  leap; 
Twill  make  a  miller  keep  his  room, 

A  health  for  to  begin,  too, 
Twill  make  him  shew  his  golden  thumb, 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stmgo. 

Twill  make  an  hostess  free  of  heart, 

And  leave  her  measures  ptnchug, 
Twill  make  an  host  with  liquor  part. 

And  bid  him  hang  all  flinching; 
It's  so  beWd,  I  dare  protest. 

Men  cannot  live  without  it. 
And  when  they  find  there  is  the  best 

The  most  will  flock  about  it. 


And,  finally,  the  beggar  poor, 

That  walks  till  he  be  weary. 
Craving  along  from  door  to  door, 

With  prt^ommuerere  ; 
If  he  do  change  to  catch  a  touch. 

Although  his  clothes  be  thin,  too. 
Though  he  be  lame,  he'll  prove  his  crutch. 

If  his  head  be  lin'd  with  stingo. 

Now  to  conclude,  here  u  a  health 

Unto  the  lad  that  spendeth. 
Let  every  man  drink  off  his  can. 

And  so  my  ditty  endeth ; 
I  willing  am  my  friend  to  pledge, 

For  he  will  meet  me  one  day ; 
Let's  drink  the  barrel  to  the  dregs, 

For  the  malt-man  comes  a«Monday. 


412  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Here  is  what  the  Rev.  R.  H.  Barham  puq)ort8  to  be  the 
legend  of  St  Gengulphus — probably  one  of  the  silliest  coroposi- 
tioDs  I  have  reproduced : — 

St  JingOy  or  Gengo  (Gengulphus),  sometime  styled  "The 
Living  Jingo "  firom  the  great  tenaciousness  of  vitality  exhibited 
by  his  severed  members.  Gengulphus,  or,  as  he  is  usually  styled 
in  this  country,  **  Jingo,"  was  perhaps  more  in  the  mouths  of  the 
^  general "  than  any  other  saint,  on  occasions  of  adjuration.  Mr 
Simpkinton,  of  Bath,  has  kindly  transmitted  me  a  portion  of  a 
primitive  ballad,  which  has  escaped  the  researches  of  Ritson  and 
Ellis,  but  is  yet  replete  with  beauties  of  no  common  order.  I  am 
happy  to  say  that,  since  these  legends  first  appeared,  I  have  re- 
covered the  whole  of  it — Fide  infra, 

A  Franklyn's  dogge  leped  over  a  style, 
And  hys  name  was  littel  Byngo. 
B  with  a  Y — Y  with  an  N, 
N  with  a  G — G  with  an  O, 
They  call'd  hym  littel  Bpgo  ! 

Thys  Franklyn,  syrs,  he  brewed  goode  ayle, 
And  -he  called  it  Rare  good  Styngo ! 
S,T,  Y,N,G,0! 
He  call'd  it  Rare  goode  Styngo  ! 

Nowe  is  notte  thys  a  prettie  song  ? 
I  thinke  it  is,  bye  Jyngo, 
J  wythc  a  Y— N,  G,  O— 
I  sweare  yt  is,  bye  Jyngo ! 

The  next,  in  praise  of  Warrington  Ale,  appeared  in  "Harland's 
Ancient  Ballads  and  Songs  of  Lancashire,"  with  a  note  to  the 
efiect  that  the  song  was  by  a  then  deceased  author,  and  printed 
for  the  first  time. 

Warrington  Ale. 

Your  doctors  may  boast  of  their  lotions, 

And  ladies  may  talk  of  their  tea ; 
But  I  envy  them  none  of  their  potions: 

A  ghss  of  good  stingo  for  me. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  4 1 3 

The  doctor  may  sneer  if  he  pleaaesi 

Bat  my  recipe  never  will  fail ; 
For  the  physic  that  cures  all  diseases 

Is  a  bumper  of  Warrington  ale. 

D'ye  mind  me,  I  once  was  a  sailor. 

And  m  di^rent  countries  I've  been; 
If  I  lie,  may  I  go  for  a  tailor, 

But  a  thousand  fine  sights  I  have  seen. 
Pve  been  cramm'd  with  good  things  like  a  wallet, 

And  I've  guzzled  more  drink  than  a  whale; 
But  the  very  best  stuff  to  my  palate 

Is  a  glass  of  your  Warrington  ale. 

When  my  trade  was  upon  the  salt  ocean, 

Why,  there  I  got  plenty  of  grog, 
And  I  liked  it,  because  I'd  a  notion 

It  set  one's  good  spirits  agog. 
But  since  upon  land  I've  been  steering. 

Experience  has  alter'd  my  tale. 
For  nothing  on  earth  is  so  cheering 

As  a  bumper  of  Warrington  ale. 

Into  France  I  have  oftentimes  foUow'd, 

And  once  took  a  trip  into  Spain ; 
And  ail  kinds  of  liquor  I've  swallow'd. 

From  ^ring-water  up  to  champagne. 
But  the  richest  of  wines  to  my  thinking. 

Compared  with  good  stingo,  is  stale; 
For  there's  nothing  in  life  that's  worth  drinkbg 

Like  a  bumper  of  Warrington  ale. 

The  praise  of  Nottingham  Ale  is  taken  from  the  **  History  of 
Nottingham,"  by  John  Blackman,  1815. 

The  song  was  written  by  a  gentleman  named  Gemthorpe,  an 
officer  in  the  army,  on  the  occasion  of  a  barrel  of  Nottingham 
ale  being  sent  to  him  by  a  brother  who  kept  the  Punch  Bowl,  in 


4»4  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Peck  Lane,  Notdngham*  Blackman  says — we  know  not  with 
what  truth — that  *<  it  is  partly  owing  to  the  excellent  quality  of 
the  coal  in  this  neighbouriiood  that  Nottbgham  owes  the  superior 
flavour  o{  its  ale ! " 


Nottingham  Ale. 

Fair  Venus,  the  goddess  of  beauty  and  love. 

Arose  from  the  froth  which  swam  on  the  sea: 
Minerva  leapt  out  of  the  cramum  of  Jove^ 

A  coy  sullen  slut,  as  most  authors  agree; 
Bold  Bacchus,  they  tell  us,  the  prince  of  good  fellows, 

Was  a  natural  son — ^pray  attend  to  ray  tale; 
But  they  that  thus  chatter,  mistake  quite  the  matter — 

He  sprung  firom  a  barrel  of  Nottingham  ale; 
Nottingham  ale,  boys,  Nottbgham  ale; 
No  liquor  on  earth  like  Nottingham  ale ! 

And  having  survey'd  well  the  cask  whence  he  sprung. 

For  want  of  more  liquor,  low-spirited  grew ; 
He  mounted  astride,  set  himself  on  the  bung, 

And  away  to  the  gods  and  the  goddesses  flew; 
But,  when  he  look'd  down,  and  saw  the  fair  town, 

To  pay  it  due  honours,  not  likely  to  fail; 
He  swore  that  on  earth,  'twas  the  place  of  his  birth. 

And  the  best — and  no  liquor  like  Nottingham  ale. 

Nottingham  ale,  &c. 

Ye  bishops  and  deacons,  priests,  curates,  and  vicars. 

When  once  you  have  tasted  you'll  own  it  is  true, 
That  Nottbgham  ale  is  the  best  of  all  liquors; 

And  who  understands  the  good  creature  like  you  ? 
It  expels  every  vapour — saves  pen,  ink,  and  paper; 

And  when  you're  disposed  firom  the  pulpit  to  rail, 
rfwill  open  your  throats — you  may  preach  without  notes 

When  inspired  with  a  bumper  of  Nottingham  ale. 

Nottingham  ale,  6cc. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  4 1 5 

Ye  doctors,  who  more  execution  have  done 

With  powder  and  bolus,  with  potion  and  pill. 
Than  hangman  with  halter,  or  soldier  with  gun, 

Than  miser  with  Eunine,  or  lawyer  with  quill;  . 
To  dispatch  us  the  quicker,  you  forbid  us  malt  liquor, 

Till  our  bodies  consume,  and  our  faces  grow  pale; 
But  mind  it,  what  pleases,  and  cures  all  diseases, 

Is  a  comforting  dose  of  good  Nottingham  ak! 

Nottingham  ale,  &c. 

Ye  poets  who  brag  of  the  Helicon  brook. 

The  nectar  of  gods,  and  the  juice  of  the  vine; 
You  say  none  can  write  well,  except  they  invoke 

The  friendly  assistance  of  one  of  the  nine  ; 
Here's  liquor  surpasses  the  streams  of  Parnassus, 

The  nectar  ambrosia,  on  which  gods  regale; 
Experience  will  show  it,  nought  makes  a  good  poet 

Like  quantum  tuffidt  of  Nottingham  ale ! 

Nottingham  ale,  &c. 

The  Independent  fVhig^  a  religious  journal  published  in  1752, 
'^written  and  published  during  the  kte  rebellion,"  records  that: — 

*' An  ancient  Baronet  in  Lmcohublre  who  was  foadofNoiting'^ 
bam  ale  beyond  all  other  liquors,  though  no  enemy  to  any,  yet 
would  never  taste  a  drop  of  it,  nor  bear  to  hear  it  proposed,  after 
the  Lord  Chancellor  Finch,  who  had  made  a  very  just  decree  in 
his  disfavour,  was  made  Earl  of  Nottingham.  This  was  equiva« 
lent  to  cutting  off  his  nose  to  spite  his  &ce." 

The  next  spirited  stanzas  appeared  in  l/oiet  and  Queriei^ 
May,  1856. 

Nottingham  Ale. 

Let  Teetotalers  gabble, 

And  kick  up  a  squabble, 
And  swill  out  their  guts  with  cold  tea ; 

Good  old  Nottingham  Ale 
Was  ne'er  known  to  fail 

To  raise  the  good  ^irits  in  me. 


4^6  In  Praise  of  Ale. 


'Twill  make  you  much  stronger, 

And  \vrt  all  the  longer, 
'Twill  warm  your  jolly  inside, 

And  when  you  are  dead 
It  will  not  be  said, 

'Twas  the  want  of  good  liquor  you  died. 


For  Whiskey  or  Gin 

I  don't  care  a  pin, 
Away  with  all  Spirits  away; 

But  a  glass  of  good  A]e, 
"  Old  Nottingham's  Pale  "— 

There  is  no  drink  to  beat  it  I  say. 

Then  Hurrah  !  for  the  true, 

Old  Nottingham  brew, 
No  better  on  earth  can  there  be; 

It  dispells  all  our  sorrows. 
And  all  things  that  bothers. 

So  a  cup  of  good  Ale  give  to  me. 

The  Newcastle  poets  have  emulated  each  other  in  singing  the 
praises  of  their  native  brewage.  Probably  the  most  inspiriting 
song  is  the  annexed  one  by  Joseph  P.  Robson,  a  very  popular  poet 
in  his  day.  His  poems  are  witty  and  humorous  without  being 
oflensive.     The  date  is  1848: — 


Alb!  Ale!  all  Alb! 

I'll  sing  you  a  song  with  a  voice  as  bold 

As  a  lion  in  the  wood, 
While  I  quaff*  a  cup  of  the  brown  and  old. 

And  it  joys  as  it  warms  my  blood. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  417 

Oh,  how  a  fish  Pd  love  to  be. 
If  the  ocean  were  good  ale ; 
Among  the  foam  right  merrily 
I'd  gambol  like  a  whale. 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale !  my  boyi,  all  ale ! 

There's  nothing  like  ale  can  be; 
Regale,  regale  on  the  home-brewed  ale ; 
And  a  jolly  MX  pot  for  me  I 

Oh,  ever  since  the  world  began — 

Some  say  long  before — 
Good  ale  was  dearly  loved  by  man, 

Who  drank  it  in  galore ; 
For  Samson  strong  had  never  been  $ 

Each  fox  had  kept  his  tail ; 
And  Gaza's  gates  we  might  have  seen. 

But — Sammy  loved  good  ale. 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale  1  &c 

King  Pharaoh  loved  a  chirping  cup. 

As  it  plainly  doth  appear; 
For  he  strove  to  drink  the  Red  Sea  up. 

As  it  looked  like  good  old  beer ; 
But,  unto  his  teetotal  cost. 

He  found  it  rayther  small ; 
So  he  daro'd  the  water  where  he  was  lost — 

Cars,  horses,  men,  and  all. 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale,  &c« 

Hurrah  !  for  the  Saxon  days  of  yore, 

When  the  wassail  cup  went  round ! 
When  the  barons  pledged  of  healths  a  score 

To  the  ladies  fair  renowned ! 
Each  dauntless  warrior  feared  no  foti 

He'd  doff  his  coat  of  mail ; 
For  the  devil  a  soul  could  stand  his  blow 

When  he  sharped  his  steel  with  ale. 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale  I  &c. 

2  0 


4 1 8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Queen  Bess  was  in  her  glory  quite 

To  see  her  yeomen  bold ; 
For  they  fed  on  beef,  and  drank  all  night 

Deep  draughts  of  the  brown  ale  old ! 
O  give  me  none  of  your  water  men. 

With  their  faces  lank  and  pale ! 
For  the  boys  that  can  cut  and  come  again 

Must  quaff  whole  butts  of  ale. 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale !  6cc. 


Hurrah  !  what  a  sight  is  the  tankard  bright 

When  the  sun  is  glowing  hot ! 
A  pound  for  a  pull  of  the  cool  delight. 

And  three  cheers  for  a  foaming  pot ! 
'Tis  a  fountain  of  joy  in  seasons  all ; 

'Tis  hope  when  your  prospects  fail ; 
For  the  heart  can  never  droop  or  kW 

When  its  blood's  well  warmed  with  ale  ! 
Singing,  Ale,  all  ale !  &c. 


This  Knight  Sir  John  is  a  rare  old  cove. 

Quite  honest  in  his  way  ; 
And  many  a  maid  he's  coaxed  to  love 

On  a  Christmas  holiday. 
He  bids  the  tender  bosom  bum, 

And  Cupid's  darts  prevail ; 
Oh,  a  fine  brave  soul  is  Barleycorn  ; 

Let  us  pledge  him  now  in  ale  ! 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale !  &c. 


So  prate  no  more  of  your  cognac, 
Nor  your  teeming  skins  of  wine ; 

Let  me  of  **  heavy  "  have  my  whack, 
I'll  never  once  repine  ! 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  419 

IM  meet  the  deril  in  the  dark. 

And  cut  his  swinging  tail ; 
And  quench  of  brimstone  every  spark — 

Why,  we'll  drown  him  in  good  ale ! 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale  !  &c. 

The  Cockneys  may  boast  of  their  porter  fame, 

And  deem  their  **  stout "  divine ; 
But  they  never  can  claim  the  glorious  name. 

Of  the  ale  on  the  banks  of  Tyne  ! 
Like  that  fine  stream— clear,  old,  and  good — 

It  was  never  known  to  fail ; 
Nay,  kings  have  enriched  their  regal  blood 

By  draughts  of  Newcastle  ale  ! 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale !  &c. 

So  now,  my  brave  boys,  my  song  is  done. 

Come  listen  to  my  toast : 
'*  May  every  one  who  loves  the  iun 

Contrive  to  rule  the  roast  I 
May  trade  in  every  form  increase ; 

May  commerce  spread  her  sail ! 
May  fortune  crown  the  brow  of  peace;" 

Hurrah  !  for  the  good  old  ale  ! 

Singing,  Ale,  all  ale !  &c. 

Thomas  Marshall,  another  Newcastle  celebrity,  gave  the  fol- 
lowing good  advice  to  his  son  in  or  about  the  year  1829.  The 
teaching  is  sound,  though  somewhat  prosy — tempered,  however, 
with  a  slight  love  of  beer  and  tobacco. 

Roi  Hobson's  Advice  tiv  his  Son. 

ji  RccUaibuH, 

Rob  Hobson  sat  before  the  fire, 
An*  puffed  his  baccy  smoke, 
A  pictor  ov  a  gud  awd  sire. 

That  can  give  or  tyek  a  joke ; 

2  D  2 


420  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

He  puff'd  away,  luck'd  wisely  roond, 

Wink'd  slyly  at  young  Dan, 
Then  like  a  mortal,  wisdom  croon'd. 

Thus  tiv  his  son  began : 

Maw  canny  lady  yeVe  noo  arrived 

At  a  wild  unsartin  age, 
So  wi'  roe  tung  awVe  just  contrived, 

A  lesson  worth  a  sage — 
Luck  forward  te  the  sunny  side. 

The  dark  side  scarcely  scan, 
An*  niver  deel  wi'  dirty  pride, 

If  ye  want  te  be  a  man. 

Tyek  a'  advice  thit  ye    an  get. 

Turn  not  yor  heed  away, 
Or  let  foaks  put  ye  i'  the  pet, 

Wi*  onnything  they  say, 
For  informayshun  myeks  us  wise, 

An'  shows  which  way  te  steer ; 
Be  careful — if  ye  want  te  rise. 

Be  canny  wi'  the  beer. 

Keep  close  yor  mooth !  watch  weel  yor  words ; 

Afor  ye  let  them  oot, 
For  thowtless  speeches  myek  discords. 

An'  puts  foaks  sair  aboot ; 
Keep  passion  always  fiae  yor  door, 

Send  selfish  thowts  away. 
An'  nivor  let  foaks  chawk  a  score 

Ye  thmk  ye  cannet  pay! 

Let  honesty  yor  motto  be, 

Mark  weel  these  words  aw  say, 

For  if  thor  worth  ye  dinnet  see, 
Yell  mebbies  rue  the  day ; 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  42 1 

Save  up  te  thriTCy  mind  weel  yor  peoae. 

Put  not  yor  daes  in  pawn. 
But  keq>  them  oot,  yorael  te  mensey 

Thorns  nyen  fits  like  yor  awn  ! 

Dinnet  tell  lees,  sick  ackshuns  tconiy 

Unworthy  ov  a  man, 
Let  truth  as  pure  as  ye  war  bom. 

For  iTor  be  yer  plan  ; 
Stick  close  to  frinds  that  yeVe  fund  true, 

Strite-forwardy  kind,  an'  free ; 
Do  nowt  te  myek  you  conshuns  rucy 

An'  a  ^  happy  man  "  yell  be! 

Here  is  another  local  ditty,  written  in  the  native  dialect  by 
Robert  Anderson : — 

Our  EUek  likes  fat  bacon  weel. 

And  haver-bannock  pleases  Dick ; 
A  cowd-lwerd  meks  lal  Wully  fain, 

And  cabbish  aye  turns  Philip  sick ; 
Our  deame's  for  gurdle-cake  and  tea. 

And  Betty's  aw  for  thick  pez  keale ; 
Let  ilk  yen  hncy  what  they  wuU, 

Still  my  delight  is  good  Strang  yell. 

I  ne'er  had  rouckle,  ne'er  kent  want. 

Ne'er  wrang'd  a  neybor,  frien*,  or  kin ; 
My  wife  and  bairns  biun  aw  I  prize — 

There's  music  i'  their  varra  din : 
I  labour  suin,  I  labour  leate. 

And  chearfu'  eat  my  humble  meal ; 
My  weage  can  feed  and  dead  us  aw, 

And  whiles  affords  me  good  Strang  yelL 

What's  aw  the  warl'  widout  content  ? 

Wi'  that  and  health  roan  can't  be  peer ; 
We  suin  slip  off  frae  frien's  and  foes. 

Then  whea  but  fuils  wud  feight  for  gear ; 


422  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

But  kings  and  consols  gowks  may  fratch  ; 

For  me  I  scworn  to  vex  mysel. 
But  laugh  at  courts  and  owre-grown  knaves, 

When  I've  a  hush  o'  good  Strang  yell. 

The  Newcastle  ballad  which  follows  shows  the  fate  which  befel 
Remus,  who  tried  surreptitiously  to  learn  the  temperature  of 
Vincent's  worts.     The  ballad  is  in  the  Catnach  style,  and  headed 

Thb  Fox  Caught  in  a  Brewhouse  ;  or,  Honesty  the  Best 

Pouof. 

A  New  Edition  Correaed. 

Tune — ^  Good-Morrow  to  your  Nightcap." 

Oh  1  listen  to  my  sad  mishap, 

While  joking  is  in  season ; 
They've  caught  Old  Renny  in  a  trap, 

And  him  depriv'd  of  reason. 
'Twas  just  behind  the  barley  mow. 
The  foaming  gile  he  chanc'd  to  view, 
"  If  beer  like  Vincent's  I  could  brew, 

I'd  have  a  roaring  trade,  man  ! " 

Out  of  a  window  oft  he'd  stretch 

His  nose  abune  the  steam,  man  ; 
But  found  the  gile  beyond  his  reach. 

So  hit  upon  a  scheme,  man : 
To  know  the  heats  it  was  his  wish. 
So  in  the  gile  he  thought  to  fish. 
And  that  wad  be  a  dainty  dish 

For  him,  and  nyen  wad  brew,  man. 

Like  fox  in  fable  oft  he  look'd. 

But  found  he  couldn't  come  at  her. 
At  last  for  fourteen  bob  he  hook'd 

A  second-hand  thermometer. 
He  &sten'd  to  its  end  a  cord. 
Then  let  the  thbg  right  ower-board, 
Sj^ne  drew  her  up  without  a  word, 

Ne'er  luikin  for  a  bite,  man. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  423 

The  brewer  often  fand  his  vat 

Disturb'd,  so  chose  to  watch  'im ; 
For,  by-the-bye,  he  smelt  a  rat. 

If  only  he  could  catch  him. 
He  came  as  soft  as  he  could  crawl, 
And  saw  the  cord  hang  down  the  wall, 
Then  made  a  cut — but  after  all. 

It  got  from  him  away^  man. 

"  Now  hang,"  says  he,  **  I'm  fairly  up 

To  Renny's  sly  intention." 
So  stapled  down  a  spring  fox-trap, 

But  ne'er  a  word  did  mention. 
Then  to  the  window  went  himsel'. 
And  saw  exactly  where  it  fell ; 
^  This  scheme,"  says  he,  ^  must  answer  well ; 

I'll  catch  him,  never  fear,  man  !  " 

'Twas  on  a  Sunday  morning  fine. 

When  people  were  at  prayers,  man. 
He  came  and  straight  threw  in  his  line 

Not  dreading  traps  nor  snares,  man ; 
The  line  he  found  grew  hellish  tight, 
*Twas  nick  or  else  a  strong  bite. 
Away  he  ran  in  great  affright. 

And  ne'er  was  heard  of  mair,  man. 

J.  Rayson,  the  Cumberland  poet,  wrote  in  praite  of  Joe 
Iiedale's  yel  of  the  High  Brewery,  Carlisle,  and  is  still  uaed  by 
the  worthy  proprietor  of  that  fiinx>ua  establishment.  It  deab  t 
blow  at  thoee  so-called  brewers  who  trust  to  drugs  instead  of 
malt  and  hops,  and  so  far  chimes  in  with  the  remarks  I  made 
elsewhere : — 

Let  Englishmen  brag  o'  their  rum  frae  Jamaica, 
The  French  o'  their  brandy,  auld  port,  or  champagne ; 
The  Scotchman  may  trump  up  his  sense-stealing  whisky, 
A  flame  to  the  stomach,  a  thief  to  the  brain. 


424  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Scotch,  talk  as  ye  will  o'  yer  sure-killiDg  puzzen. 
And  tell  o'  its  yirtues  o'  bearing  the  bell ; 
But  give  me  a  bottle  to  cull  my  |>arch'd  throttle, 
A  soul-stirring  draught  o'  Joe  Iredale's  yel. 

Yon  lal  strutdn'  puppy,  the  vain  dandy  brewer, 

May  praise  round  the  country  his  drug  water  wash ; 

But  now  it's  weel  known  he's  the  king  of  aw  leers, 

And  his  physic  yel  is  the  vilest  o'  trash. 

But  Joe's  yel,  like  brandy,  needs  nae  yen  to  trump  it — 

Just  caw  for  a  quart,  it  will  speak  for  itsel ; 

In  spirits  'twill  raise  you,  but  ne'er  meek  ye  crazy. 

For  malt  is  the  drug  o'  Joe  Iredale's  yel. 

If  ye  be  a  lover,  and  want  words  to  tell  her, 
Ye'd  speak  a  fresh  tongue  wid  a  drop  in  yer  e'e ; 
Or  should  ye  e'en  differ  by  teasdn'  this  liquor, 
A  pot  o'  Joe's  best  will  suin  meek  ye  agree. 
Twill  cure,  like  magic,  aw  macks  o'  disorders. 
E'en  some  that  has  capt  our  auld  doctor  his  sel ; 
Our  priest,  in  his  sarmin,  paints  sin  mair  alarmin 
When  he  is  half  full  o'  Joe  Iredale's  yel. 

Speaking  of  local  customs  and  local  drinks,  the  following, 
written  by  a  correspondent  in  an  early  number  of  Notes  and 
Queries^  may  be  interesting.  It  is  a  novel  drink,  and  should  be 
strengthening  and  tonic  in  its  effects.  There  is  nothing  new  under 
the  sun,  though  we  have  seen  of  late  years  beef-wme,  and  meat 
and  malt  extracts  advertised  and  vaunted  as  the  greatest  novelty 
and  finest  nostrum  ever  brought  out. 

Meat  and  Malt  :  ^  Morocco." 

^  I  was  present  some  time  since  at  a  conversation  in  Cumberland, 
when  1  drink  peculiar  to  a  place  called  Leven's  Hall,  in  that 
county,  the  seat,  I  believe,  of  a  branch  of  the  Carlisle  femily,  was 
mentioned,  and  described  as  exceedingly  strong  ale,  in  the  brewing 
of  which  beef  or  meat  was  introduced.     Having  repeated  this  to 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  425 

some  friends  a  short  time  nnce,  considerable  doubts  were  expressed 
as  to  the  probability  or  possibility  of  combining  meat  with  malt 
and  hopSy  and  I  consequently  wrote  to  some  friends  in  the  north, 
but  have  only  been  able  to  get  the  following  account :  **  Morocco 
is  the  name  of  the  drink ;  it  is  brewed  at  LevenSy  near  Milnthorp, 
from  a  recipe  found  wrapped  up  in  lead  near  an  evergreen  in  the 
old  garden.  Flesh  is  certainly  introduced,  as  I  believe  it  to  be 
in  the  Durham  University  strong  beer.  The  exact  recipe  for 
brewing  morocco  is  kept  strictly  secret.  There  is  a  legend  that 
the  secret  was  brought  by  a  Crusader  Howard,  and  during  the 
civil  warB  buried  where  it  was  found  as  above  some  years  ago. 
Helpless,  truly,  is  the  state  of  that  man  who  stoops  to  drink 
inferior  liquor  after  imbibing  the  mighty  morocco.  It  is  almost 
dark,  pours  like  oil,  and  tastes  mild  as  milk  in  its  treachery." 

LicHnELD  Ale. 

Here,  Tapster,  My  Old  Anno  Domini  Broach. 

We  have  a  fine  example  of  the  virtues  of  jolly  good  ale  and  old, 
in  the  case  of  that  old  rascal,  Boni^ce,  who  appears  and  dis- 
appears in  Farquhar's  *'  Beaux's  Stratagem,"  act  L,  scene  1 ,  iemp. 
1 707.  He  was  a  consummate  scoundrel,  yet  on  this  occasion  no 
one  would  venture  to  question  his  veracity,  whilst  his  description 
of  good  ale  is  perfect : — 

Boniface.  Sir,  I  liave  now  in  my  cellar  ten  tun  of  the  best  ale 
in  Staffordshire ;  'tis  smooth  as  oil,  sweet  as  milk,  clear  as  amber, 
and  strong  as  brandy,  and  will  be  just  fourteen  jrears  old  the  fifth 
day  of  next  March,  old  style. 

AsmwelL  You're  very  exact,  I  find,  in  the  age  of  your  ale. 

Boniface.  As  punctual,  sir,  as  I  am  in  the  age  of  my  children. 
rU  show  you  such  ale !  Here,  tapster,  broach  number  1 706, 
as  the  saying  is.  Sir,  you  shall  taste  my  Anno  Domini.  I  have 
lived  in  Lichfield,  man  and  boy,  above  cight-and-fifty  years,  and 
I  believe  I  have  not  consumed  eight-and-fifty  ounces  of  meat. 

jftmweU,  At  a  meal  you  mean,  if  one  may  guess  your  sense 
by  your  bulk. 


426  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Boniface.  Not  in  my  life,  dr.  I  have  fed  purely  upon  ale ;  i 
have  eat  my  ale,  drank  my  ale,  and  always  sleep  upon  ale.  Now, 
sir,  you  shall  see  [^ pours  out  a  glass'].  Your  worship's  health. 
Ha !  delicious,  delicious !  Fancy  it  Burgundy — only  fancy  it — 
and  'tis  worth  ten  shillings  a  quart  I 

jfhnwell.  [^drinis]  Tis  confounded  strong ! 

Boniface.  Strong !  It  must  be  so,  or  how  should  we  be  strong 
that  drink  it  ? 

The  foregoing  dialogue  has  been  versified  in  the  following 
stanzas ;  but,  unfortunately,  the  tune,  like  those  of  very  many  of 
our  good  old  ballads,  has  been  lost,  mislaid,  or  worn  out : — 

Here,  tq>ster,  my  old  jinno  Domini  broach, 

Just  fourteen  years  old — you  may  credit  my  tale ; 

Its  virtues  can  none  in  the  country  approach, 
Youll  own  when  you've  tasted  a  tankard  of  ale. 

In  Lichfield  full  fifty-eight  years,  man  and  boy. 
Has  old  Boniface  liv'd  ever  hearty  and  hale ; 

For  his  eating,  his  drinking,  his  business,  his  joy, 
Have  all  been  confin'd  to  a  tankard  of  ale. 

Tis  snsoother  than  oil,  and  no  milk  is  so  sweet. 

Yet,  like  brandy,  it's  strong,  I'll  go  bail ; 
No  amber  more  clear — faith,  you'll  own  it  a  Qrat 

To  take  with  old  Boni  a  tankard  of  ale. 

My  poor  wife,  as  dead  as  the  saying  is — ah ! 

On  life  till  this  moment  she  had  not  turn'd  tail, 
Had  she  copied  from  me ;  but  she  drank  usquebaugh, 

While  I  was  content  with  a  tankard  of  ale. 

London. 

The  following  versicle  from  "  Poor  Robin,"  temp.  1 676,  refers 
to  the  high  jinks  which  were  periodically  held,  amongst  other 
placet,  at  the  ale  bin  of  merrie  Islington  and  Holloway,  which 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  42  7 

were  at  one  time  two  veiy  remote  tuburbe  of  the  great  city. 
Holloway  was,  and,  we  may  add,  is  still,  famous  for  the  ex- 
cellence of  its  cakes,  and  very  properly  so. 

At  Islington  a  fair  they  hold. 
Where  cakes  and  ale  are  to  be  sold ; 
At  Highgate,  and  at  Holloway 
The  like  is  kept  here  every  day ; 
At  Totnam  Court  and  Kentish  Town, 
And  all  those  places  up  and  down. 

Doet  thou  think  because  thou  ait  virtuous  there  shall  be  no 
more  cakes  and  ale  ? 

Yea,  by  Saint  Anne ;  and  ginger  shall  be  hot  i'  the  mouth 
too. 


Considering  that  Burton  has  of  late  ytan  become  the  head 
centre  of  the  brewing  trade,  owing  to  its  natural  advantages  in  the 
way  of  water,  which  has  the  peculiar  property  of  retaining  what- 
ever saccharine  may  be  put  into  it  in  solution  for  any  length  of 
time  without  undergoing  those  chemical  changes  which  usually 
take  place  in  spring  or  river  waters;  and  seeing  the  enormous 
celebrity  of  the  ale,  one  would  naturally  look  to  find  its  fiime 
celebrated  in  song  more  than  it  has  been.  This  is  the  best  I 
have  found  at  present.  It  is  quoted  in  Dr  Bushnan's  ^  History 
of  Burton  Ale,*'  but  it  is  not  stated  whether  the  song  is  original 
or  select. 

Burton  Alb. 

What  can  avail  like  the  fine  old  ale. 

The  heart's  best  blood  renewing  ? 
But  such  good  cheer  must  come  firom  the  beer— 

The  beer  of  Burton  brewing. 

Some  croaking  folks  declared  as  t  hoax, 

*Tis  poison  up  to  the  brink ; 
But  strange  to  say,  these  doctors  alway 

Dive  deep  in  the  self-same  drink. 


428  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

A  terrible  tale,  from  Java's  vale. 

Some  tray'lers  love  to  repeat ; 
An  upas  tree,  they  say,  you  may  see, 

Pois'ning  that  dreary  retreat. 

The  air,  and  the  ground,  and  ail  around 

Are  wrapped  in  the  arms  of  death ; 
And  beasts  of  prey,  and  the  birds  they  say, 

Drop  dead  at  its  slightest  breatli. 

And  the  chemist's  skill,  it  doth  distil 

Death  drops  from  this  deadly  tree ; 
" 'Tis  strychnine !  '*  they  cry,  "and  all  will  die 

Who  drink  pale  ale  mernlie. 

"  'Tis  that  imparts  the  flavour  tart. 

Found  alone  in  bitter  beer ; 
Oh  I  let  it  not  pass ;  there's  death  in  the  glass, 

Tho'  it  sparkles  bright  and  clear. 

"  Silence,  good  folks !  don't  play  off  your  jokes ; 

Prithee,  be  just  and  explain. 
How  years  go  by,  and  men  do  not  die 

Who  drink  it,  and  drink  again. 

"  Take  common  sense,  let  science  go  hence ! 

Vm  old,  yet  ne'er  will  I  fail 
To  drink  while  I  may — night,  noon,  and  day — 

A  bumper  of  Burton  ale." 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  m  **  Ivanhoe,"  refers  to  Burton  ale  as  being 
famous  prior  to  the  reign  of  Richard  I.,  and  an  authentic  docu- 
ment quoted  by  Mr  Molyneux,  the  historian  of  Burton,  speaks  of 
a  grant  of  ''  conventual  beer "  made  by  the  abbott  convent  of 
Burton.     The  words  of  Hotspur,  in  Henry  IV., 

Methinks  my  moiety  of  Burton  here 
In  quantity  equals  not  one  of  yours, 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  429 

naye  been  ingeniously  constnied  by  tome  into  t  reference  to  the 
berenge  of  the  town. 

On  the  same  authority  we  find  that  ^  Athelstane  remembered 
the  Abbot  of  St.  Withhold's  good  ale.**  (For  Burton  was 
already  famous  for  that  genial  liquor.)  ^  In  my  mind  we  had 
better  turn  back  and  bide  with  the  Abbott  until  the  afternoon. 
It  is  unlucky  to  travel  where  your  path  is  crossed  by  a  monk,  t 
hare,  or  a  howling  dog,  until  yon  have  eaten  your  next  meal." 

Somerville,  in  his  poem  of  **  The  KCser's  Speech,"  shows  how 
the  cockles  of  the  old  man's  heart  warmed  overnight  under  the 
nfluence  of  Burton,  though  in  the  morning  he  recaUed  his 
mortgages  at  6  per  cent.,  and  re-issued  them  at  1  o  per  cent. : — 

Thus  spoke  old  Gripe  when  botdes  three 
Of  Burton  ale  unlocked  his  breast. 

Resolved  to  be 
A  generous,  honest,  country  squire. 

The  brewery  of  AUsopp  8c  Co.  is  traditionally  said  to  be 
**  so  old  that  no  one  ever  heard  of  its  having  a  beginning.  The 
very  land  it  stood  upon  was  freehold,  and  that  made  it  out  to 
be  older  than  the  Abbey."  This  view  is  confirmed  by  the 
following  gem : — 

In  a  low  mountain  vale  that's  refreshed  by  the  gale. 

Where  the  Abbey  of  Burton  once  stood, 
A  brew-house  delights  the  wanderer's  sight. 

For,  believe  me,  the  tipple  is  good, 
How  the  monks  in  their  day  must  have  swigged  it  away. 

Oh  I  they  let  not  a  mouthful  escape, 
Till  their  cheeks,  I  suppose,  in  an  afternoon's  doze. 

Were  as  purple  and  plump  as  the  grape. 

Tol,  lol. 

Were  as  purple  and  plump  as  the  grape. 

The  next  exquisite  morceau  is  from  the  pen  of  t  local 
poetaster.  The  artist  has  evidently  put  in  high  lights  in  the 
way  of  colour. 


430  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

This  ale  must  come  from  Allsopp's  vat. 

It  is  so  bright  and  mellow ; 
There's  none  but  he  can  brew  like  that — 

Oh  I  he's  a  famous  fellow  1 
Such  ale  as  this,  wherever  sought. 

None  other  could  invent,  sirs ! 
HTis  only  brewed,  'tis  only  bought, 

At  Burton-upon-Trent,  sirs. 

The  doctors  may  boast  of  their  lotions. 

Old  women  delight  in  their  tea ; 
But  I  scorn  all  such  rubbishing  potions : 

A  glass  of  old  Burton  for  me ! 
Let  the  faculty  sneer  as  it  pleases. 

My  recipe  never  can  fail ; 
The  nepenthe  that  cures  all  diseases 

Is  a  bumper  of  Allsopp's  prime  ale. 

Burton  ale  was  first  introduced  into  London  as  Darbie  ale, 
18  it  was  transferred  to  that  town  en  route  for  London,  and  no  doubt 
tampered  with  on  the  journey  by  the  process  known  as  <<  sucking 
the  monkey."  The  cost  of  transit  also  was  a  great  drawback  to 
its  general  adoption,  before  Brindsley  had  intersected  the  country 
with  his  system  of  canals,  or  the  Trent  Navigation  Act  was 
passed  and  carried  out.  The  ale,  however,  seems  to  have  got 
into  disfavour  with  certain  writers  about  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  if  we  may  judge  from  a  pamphlet  published  in  1 699, 
entitled  "  The  Sot's  Paradise ;  or  Humours  of  a  Derby  Ale- 
house, with  a  Satyr  upon  the  Ales."  The  verses  will  not 
bear  reprinting  in  extenso^  but  extracts  will  suffice : — 

When  anxious  thoughts  my  troubled  brains  possest. 
And  the  wild  hag  rid  straggling  o'er  my  breast. 
Loaded  with  sorrow  I  pursu'd  my  rest. 

To  ease  my  cares  I  sturobl'd  into  Ray's, 
Sot'  Paradise,  so  famed  of  latter  days ; 
For  Derby  ale  it  bears  away  the  bays. 


Local  and  Diakct  Songs.  43 1 

Through  stumbling  craggy  ways  the  godly  steal 
To  heaven,  where  I  concluded,  without  fail. 
This  narrow  path  must  lead  to  heavenly  ale. 

In  comes  a  female  tapstress  pale  and  wan» 
Sodd'n  with  fumes  of  what  she'd  drank  and  drawn, 
♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦ 

Sir,  do  you  please,  I  pray,  to  have  your  ale 
Drawn  new  or  with  a  little  dash  of  stale  ? 
I  gave  her  answer,  and  she  soon  tum'd  tail. 

One  sage  old  bard  next  chimney  nook  was  got, 
Fix'd  as  a  statue  motionless  he  sat. 
His  eyes  regarding  neither  who  or  what. 

This  speechless  image  I  did  most  admire — 
No  Derby  could  this  mortal  lump  inspire — 
Who,  like  old  puss,  sat  purring  o'er  the  fire. 

Then  in  thrusts  one,  strives  hard  to  get  a  place, 
Witty  in  words,  and  satyr  in  his  face. 
Thus  boldly  speaks  in  Derby  ale's  disgrace. 

Pop  on't,  said  he,  I  yesterday  stept  in. 

And  drank  nine  tankards  to  divert  my  spleen  ; 

It  fail'd,  and  now  I  come  to  drink  nineteen. 

At  Squires'  I  heard  a  beau  so  damn  and  sink  it, 

Four  tankards  numb'd  his  wits — you  wou'd  not  think  it — 

He  swore  we  all  were  clod-skull'd  sots  who  drink  it 

With  me  this  smoky  clime  did  not  agree ; 
These  sots  too  grave  were,  that's  too  dull  for  me ; 
No  talk  is  worse  than  much  loquacity. 

After  a  description  of  the  various  frequenters  of  Ray's,  their 
siyings  and  doings,  the  author  noticed : — 

The  ale  at  last  to  these  weak  noddles  stole. 
Supplied  the  want  of  brains  in  every  skull, 
And  made  them  merry,  tho'  it  made  me  dull 


43^  ^  Praise  of  Ale. 

I  teas'd  and  dred  with  this  bear-garden  phy. 

In  doleful  dumps  did  for  ten  tankards  pay. 

And  sicky  not  drunk,  I  homewards  steer'd  my  way. 

No  wonder  the  sots  got  fuddled  when  we  read  the  quantity  of 
Derby  which  they  put  away  at  one  sitting.  The  pamphlet  closes 
with  the  following 

Satyb.  upon  Derby  Ai£. 

Base  and  ignoble  flegm,  dull  Derby  ale. 
Thou  canst  o'er  none  but  brainless  sots  prevail  ? 
Chokes  them  if  new,  and  sowr  art  if  stale. 

Thou  drown*8t  no  care,  or  dost  thou  elevate ; 
Instead  of  quenching  drouth,  dost  drouth  create ; 
Makes  us  dull  sots  at  an  expensive  rate. 

Old  English  ale,  which  upstart  fops  disdain, 
Brew'd  by  our  grandsires,  cheered  the  heart  of  man, 
Quench'd  drouth  with  pleasure,  and  prolong'd  their  span. 

But  thou,  poor  slime  1  thou  art  not  ale,  for  why  ? 
Thou  neither  cheares  the  heart  nor  brisks  the  ejt : 
The  more  we  drink  the  more  we  still  are  dry. 

Rare  ^t'ning  swill,  to  belly  up  lean  guest, 

It  feeds  a  man  in  six  months  to  a  beast. 

And  gives  him  bulk  for  a  churchward'n  at  least. 

PufTd  up  with  thee,  dispirited,  debased. 

We  into  Gray's  Inn  reel — O  pump  be  prais'd  I — 

There  quench  that  drouth  thy  treacly  dregs  have  rais'd. 

O'er  nipperkins  of  thee  six  hours  I  sit, 
Till  spent  my  total,  and  benum'd  my  wit. 
Thus  nothing  have,  and  just  for  nothing  fit 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  433 

Our  ways  or  thoughts  thou  nerer  canst  advance 
Above  the  affairs  of  Poland  or  of  France ; 
Wounds !  thou'rt  a  booby  to  a  cup  of  Nantes. 


Thou'rt  fit  for  those  who  are  from  troubles  finec  j 
Thou  cuPst  no  spleen,  thou  art  unfit  for  me : 
Pd's  lieve  almost  drink  Adam's  ale  as  thee. 

Thou  mak'st  us  fat  in  little  time,  'tis  true. 
The  same  will  swine's  flesh  and  potatoes  do ; 
They  cover  flesh,  not  brains,  that  follow  you. 

Thou  noble  ale !  there  caudle  and  unfit 
For  men  of  care  to  drink,  or  men  of  wit. 
Poor  English  coffee  for  a  plodding  cit. 

Guzzle  for  carmen,  foggy  and  unfine, 
For  nothing  fit  but  to  exhaust  your  coin. 
Water  to  brandy,  and  small  beer  to  wine. 

Forgive  my  drowsy  muse  where  o'er  she  nods, 

She's  not  inspiHd  or  tutor'd  by  the  gods ; 

She  rhimes  o'er  ale,  others  o'er  wine,  that's  odds. 

What  if  you  say  he's  dull,  it's  no  great  matter, 
Cross  muddy  ale's  a  heavy  theanie  for  satyr ; 
Tom  Brown  be  judge,  or  honest  Ben  Bridgewater. 

The  unkindest  cut  of  all  against  Darby  ale  occurs  in  the  fol- 
lowing dialogue,  which  was  at  one  time  popular,  and  still  gives  t 
picture  of  the  manners  of  the  period  at  which  it  was  written.  It 
is  rather  long,  but  our  forefathers  **  loved  a  richt  guid  crack." 
The  reader  will  judge  which  of  the  wordy  disputants  got  the 
best  of  the  encounter  which  culminated  in  a  "  cussing  "  match. 

2  £ 


434-  In  Praise  0^  Ale. 


A.  Dialogue  between  Claret  and  Darby  Ale. 

A  poem  considered  id  an  accidental  conyereation  between  two 
gentlemen.     Printed  for  E.  Richardson,  1691. 

Two  gentlemen  meeting  on  Ludgate  Hill. 

lit  Gentleman,  Welcome  from  the  country,  dear  Harry;  what 
an  affliction  has  your  absence  been  to  your  friends,  who  have 
hardly  enjoyed  one  pleasant  hour  since  you  left  us. 

ind  Gentleman.  And  1  as  few  minutes.  They  may  talk  what 
they  will  of  the  diversions  of  the  country,  as  hawking,  hunting, 
selling,  coursing  &c. ;  there's  no  true,  solid  pleasure  like  a  town 
life.  Half-a-dozen  honest  friends,  and  as  many  refi^eshing  bottles 
of  genuine  wine,  is  a  pleasure  which  the  country  cannot  parallel. 

1st  G.  Pardon  me  there,  sir ;  the  very  pleasure  you  speak  of 
you  may  enjoy  to  full  as  much  perfection  in  the  country  as  you 
can  in  the  town. 

tnd  G.  You  would  be  of  another  opinion.  Will,  if  you  knew 
what  was  my  usual  company:  to-day  a  couple  of  noisy  knights 
talking  of  nothing  but  taxes  and  politics;  to-morrow  three  or 
four  insipid  squires  discoursing  their  horses  and  dogs  as  Crop  and 
Dapple,  Jowler,  Rockwood,  Ringwood,  and  Bowman;  two  or 
three  days  after  an  old  country  justice,  with  five  or  six  rich 
yeomen,  confounding  the  Gazettee  and  public  newspapers  with 
their  senseless  commentaries.  But  what  need  I  say  more — are 
not  these,  think  you,  very  agreeable  converse  ?  I  am  as  glad  I 
come  again  to  this  dear  town  as  an  Englishman  who  has  been  six 
months  prisoner  at  St  Maloes  is  to  see  his  native  country  once 
more. 

I//  G.  Then  you  reckon  your  coming  to  town  just  as  the 
Jews  did  their  return  from  the  land  of  captivity  ? 

md  G.  Well,  let  the  Jews  be  in  captivity  or  out  of  captivity, 
I  care  not ;  but  this  discourse  edifies  no  more  than  the  relation  of 
the  new  lights  to  a  blmd  man:  I  am  for  more  substantial  doctrine. 
Besides,  I   hate  standing  in  the  street — it  looks  like  men  of 


Local  and  Dialed  Songs.  435 

basDeM,  and  those  fellows,  you  know,  are  my  mott  particttkr 
ayersoD.  Let  me  see,  what  tayern  are  we  near  ?  where  we  may 
meet  with  a  glass  of  old  racy  geDerous  wine,  such  as  the  gods 
drink  when  they're  a-dry,  for  I  am  resolyed  not  to  part  with  you 
till  we  have  refresht  our  understandings  to  such  a  pitch  that  we 
shall  be  as  witty  as  poets,  as  wise  as  statesmen,  and  as  religious  as 
the  council  of  Trent.     What  sayst  thou,  my  lad,  ha  ? 

lit  G.  I  think,  Harry,  you  need  not  the  additional  help  of  the 
bottle,  for  you  talk  as  briskly  aheady  as  if  you  were  inspired. 
What  think  you  to  a  dish  of  settlebrain  ? 

mJ  G.  Coffee,  I  suppose  you  mean  P  No,  no.  Will,  I  never 
think  on't  at  all ;  J  have  about  twenty  actions  against  that  and 
snudl  beer.  Prithee,  no  more  of  that  sober  discourse,  but  to  the 
matter  in  hand:  whither  shall  we  go,  to  the  George  or  the  Three 
Tuns  ?    You  know  'em  both,  Pm  sure. 

lit  G.  Yes,  as  I  did  Mrs — you  know  who,  about  four  ytxn 
ago.  Faith,  she  was  t  pretty  familiar  girl  'till  she  pracds'd 
jilting,  and  then  you  are  sensible  'tis  high  time  to  quit  her. 

tmJ  G,  Why  ?  Have  they  disoblig'd  you  lately  by  drawing 
bad  wine  ? 

lit  G,  No,  never  to  my  knowledge.  To  tell  you  the  plain 
truth,  Harry,  I  drink  no  wine;  and  I  think  the  enmity  between 
us  is  so  great  that  I  fear  we  shall  not  be  friends  again. 

2mJ  G.  Then  I  come  in  a  very  lucky  minute  to  reconcile  you. 
Come,  we  will  drink  one  compounding  bottle  of  daret,  and  see 
if  we  can  bring  matters  to  an  accommodation. 

lit  G,  I'll  as  soon  drink  one  bottle  of  aquafortis.  Besides, 
you're  deceiv'd  if  you  think  to  find  claret  in  town.  I  will  not 
say  but  there  may  be  such  liquor;  but  a  town  jilt  never  went  by 
more  names  than  claret  does  now.  In  one  place  it  is  Barcelona, 
in  another  Navarre,  here  Syracuse,  and  there  St  Sebastian ;  but 
the  general  name  they  give  it  is  Red  Port. 

2mJ  G,  Let  'em  give  it  as  many  names  as  the  Mogul  has  titles, 
1  care  not ;  come,  come,  you  shall  drink  one  bottle  with  me. 

lit  G,  Indeed,  you  must  excuse  me,  Harry,  for  I  swear  I  will 
not  drink  one  drop  of  wine. 

tnd  G,  One  may  guess  as  much  by  your  ember-week  com- 

2  c  3 


43^  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

plexion.  You  know  I  hate  to  press  upon  my  friends  too  much. 
What,  then,  will  you  drink  ?  or  what  is  your  belov*d  liquor  ? 
for  I  am  resolv'd  we  part  no  more  with  dry  lips  than  half-a-dozen 
fanatics  formerly  met  together  could  part  without  railing  at  the 
GoTemment. 

I//  G.  Truly,  my  ordinary  liquor  is  the  product  of  our  own 
country — good,  nappy,  well-brewed  ale;  bat  when  I  would 
regale  my  sense  and  treat  my  palate  'tis  generally  with  a  pint  or 
two  of  Nottingham  or  Darby. 

2nd  G.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  Ale,  quoth  you !  A  man  of  thy  sense 
and  drink  such  foggy,  unedifying  stuff?  But  we  will  not  here 
descend  into  the  merits  of  the  cause.  Come,  I  have  found  out 
an  expedient  will  please  us  both  ;  let's  go  to  the  Wonder  within 

the  Gate,  and  I  doubt  not  that  honest  Ned  B s  will  furnish 

us  with  liquors  both  good  in  their  kinds — ^you  with  your  Darby 
and  me  with  my  claret. 

lit  G.  Agreed.     The  house  stands  rarely  well  for  a  trade. 

trui  G.  And  no  doubt  it  has  it.  Sirrah  drawer !  bid  your 
master Jbring  us  up  a  bottle  of  Darby  and  a  half-flask  of  the  best 
red  he  has  in  his  cellar. 

I//  G.  Now  we  are  set,  dear  Harry,  let's  have  a  short  account 
of  some  country  intrigues  of  thine;  an  assignation  in  a  bam  may, 
for  variety's  sake,  please  as  well  as  at  a  lady's  lodgings  in  Pell 

MelL 

2fu/  G.  Something  may  be  done  after  a  dozen  glasses  or  so; 
but  you  shall  first  oblige  me  with  some  piece  of  wit,  sat3rr,  or 
lampoon,  for  I  know  you  have  been  very  happy  in  procuring 
things  of  that  nature. 

lit  G,  Faith,  the  town  has  been  very  dull  this  vacation;  but 
this  morning  I  met  a  friend  who  gave  me  a  paper  of  verses  which 
he  said  pleas'd  him.  I  have  not  had  so  much  leisure  as  to  read 
a  line  of  'em  yet;  but  here  they  are,  and  I  wish  they  may  be 
diverting. 

2nd  G,  They  will,  no  doubt.  Wit  is  sometimes  as  agree- 
able over  a  glass,  and  relishes  as  well  as  a  neat's  tongue  or  a  dish 
of  anchovies.  Bless  me !  'tis  the  very  subject  we  could  have 
wisht  for — a  dialogue  between  claret  and  Darby  ale.     If  the 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  437 

author  manages  his  subject  well,  we  shall  have  difersioD  enough 
though,  no  doubt ;  but  before  we  read  it  well  take  half-4i-dozen 
glasses  apiece  to  the  memory  of  our  absent  friends. 

lit  G.  With  all  my  heart;  and  then,  I  hope,  the  poem  will 
atone  for  the  dulness  of  my  company. 

znd  G,  No  compliments,  Will ;  but  now  to  the  business. 


A  Dialogue  betweem  Claret  and  Daut  Alb  : 

A  kind  of  JEsop's  fable  in  yerse. 

j1  half'fiaik  of  Claret  stamSng  an  the  table ;  a  hdile  of  Darhy 
enters  and  placet  hinuelf  vtithm  half-a^jard  ofhkm^  at  which 
affront  the  Claret^  m  a  passion^  speaks  \reads'\  : — 

Claret.  What  slave  art  thou,  impertinent  and  rude, 

That  dares  upon  my  privacies  intrude  ? 

Speak  quickly,  wretch,  and  tell  me  who  thou  art. 

Thy  business  too,  or  instantly  depart. 
Darby,  Good  words  will  breed  no  blisters  on  the  tongue. 

To  call  me  slave  or  wretch  you  do  me  wrong ; 

If  you  provoke  me,  I  perhaps  can  show 

As  much  of  birth  and  pedigree  as  you ; 

For  by  your  poor  straw  jacket  'tis  as  phun 

As  by  your  questions  you're  no  gentleman. 
Claret.  Ill-judging  fool,  who  doth  by  outsidet  guett, 

And  value  things  by  their  appearances ; 

My  quality  I  may  in  time  disclose. 

But  till  I  know  your  name  we  must  be  foes. 
Darby.  Since  choler  o'er  your  reason  doth  prevail, 

ril  humour  you — my  name  is  Darby  Ale. 
Claret.  Your  servant ;  are  you,  then,  that  mighty  sir 

Who  have  so  lately  made  so  great  a  stir  ? 

You  and  your  cousin-german  Nottingham 

Had  so  engrost  the  breath  of  airy  fame 

That  all  the  coffee-houses  of  the  town 

Did  you  their  tutebry  angel  own  : 


438  Tn  Praise  of  Ale. 

Nay,  more,  your  boldness  grew  to  such  a  height 
That  yoa  presume  at  last  to  iovade  my  right. 

[Well  said,  old  straw  bottle,  there's  an  action  good  in  law, 
and  faith  I'll  lay  twenty  pounds  thou  carryest  it.^ 

Darby,  My  country  breeding  is,  I  must  confess. 
As  yet  not  polisht  with  a  fine  address  : 
I  know  no  wrong  I've  done ;  but  tazt  by  you, 
Tis  fit  your  name  and  quality  I  knew. 
That  I  may  either  vindicate  the  action 
Or  else  submit  and  give  you  satisfaction. 

ClareL  Spoke  like  a  spark  ;  but  since  I  stoop  so  low 
To  let  thy  little  self  my  title  know. 
Prepare  thy  ears,  and  tremble  when  you  hear  it, 
I  am  the  most  immortal  liquor  Claret, 
Sent  down  to  be  a  charm  fi^r  mortal  cares. 
Son  of  the  sun  and  brother  of  the  stars. 

[That's  a  line  I  have  read  in  some  play  or  other ;  but,  how- 
ever, 'tis  well  enough  applyed  here.] 

Darby,  I'm  glad  I  know  you,  high  and  mighty  sir  ; 
Think  you  your  pompous  empty  name  could  stir 
My  choler  ?     No  !  your  title  makes  me  fear 
As  much  as  if  you'd  been  six-shilling  beer 

Claret.  Thou  son  of  earth,  thou  dull  insipid  thing. 
To  level  me,  who  am  of  liquors  king, 
With  lean  small  beer  !     But  that  thou  art  not  worth 
My  anger,  else  I'd  frown  thee  into  earth. 

Darby.  I  neither  fear  your  fix)wn  nor  court  your  smile ; 
But  if  I'm  not  mistaken  all  this  while. 
By  other  names  than  Claret  you  are  known. 

Claret.  You  do  not  hear  me,  sir,  the  fact  disown  ; 
Some  call  me  Barcelona,  some  Navar, 
Some  Syracuse ;  but  at  the  vintner's  bar 
My  name's  Red  Port.     But  call  me  what  they  will, 
Claret  I  am,  and  will  be  Claret  still. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  439 

Darby,  So  needy  sparks  by  several  names  are  known  : 
It  argues  knavery  to  have  more  than  one. 
None  knows  in  private  what  the  vintners  do. 
But  there's  some  roguery  hatcht  between  you  two, 
Those  sons  of  Bacchus  else  could  never  hold. 
Why,  there's  more  wine  by  name  of  Claret  sold 
One  month  in  London  than  a  man  can  guess 
To  be  the  product  of  three  vintages. 

[i//  G.  Then  I  think  he  is  pretty  even  with  him,  for  the 
vintners  do  certainly  play  the  devil  in  their  cellars  ;  and  therefore 
'twas  no  ill  joke  when  a  brewer's  servant,  meeting  a  vintner  of  his 
acquaintance,  bid  him  ''  Good  morning,  brother  brewer." 

ind  G.  You  have  heard  the  plaintiff,  and  'twould  be  unfair  not 
to  hear  the  defendant  too.     Let  me  read  on.] 

Claret,  Offspring  of  elements  and  grains,  forbear. 
And  press  not  too  inquisitively  near 
Our  mysteries ;  for  'tis  not  fit,  you  know. 
What  my  old  friend  the  vintner  and  I  do^ 
What  racks  and  tortures  here  I  undergo- 
That  'tis  for  my  amendment  done  I  know. 
And  I  appear  all  fine  at  jovial  club. 

Darby,  As  flaxing  sinner  rose  from  sweating  tub, 
This  diff 'rcnce  only  lies  between  you  two- 
He  is  by  mercury  cur'd,  by  brimstone  you. 

[i//  G,  There,  I  think  old  Darby  has  given  him  a  home 
thrusL  Come,  here's  one  health  of  remembrance  to  all  friends  in 
the  north  for  that  joke's  sake. 

2nd  G,  'Tis  a  rude  kind  of  jest,  tho' — just  like  his  breeding. 
But  I'll  read  on.] 

Claret,  Dull  slave,  thy  empty  foolish  puns  fi^rbear. 
Know  that  more  virtue  in  this  flask  I  bear. 
To  cheer  the  blood  and  make  the  spirits  quicker. 
Than  is  in  tuns  of  thy  insipid  liquor. 

Darby,  What  mighty  difference  lies  between  us  two  ? 
I  warm  the  blood  as  much,  or  more,  than  you. 


440  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Claret,  Yoa  warm  the  blood !     You  put  it  in  a  flame. 
While  I  with  gentle  fire  just  heat  the  same. 
What  man  with  thee  one  evening's  brunt  has  stood 
But  rose  with  aching  head  and  feverish  blood  ? 
Whereas  my  friends  could  no  such  symptoms  mark, 
But  rose  next  morning  cheerful  as  the  lark* 

Darhy.  Could  you  examine  Pluto's  weekly  bill. 

You'd  find,  amongst  those  crowds  his  caverns  fill. 
Forty  by  drinking  wine  that  thither  came 
For  one  by  Darby  ale  and  Nottingham. 

Claret.  Are  you  his  register,  so  well  you  know 
The  state  of  the  departed  souls  below  ? 
I  thought  that  secret  had  belonged  to  Fate, 
But  fools  of  things  above  them  sometimes  prate. 

Darby.  Since  you  are  mov'd,  we'll  choose  another  theme, 
My  want  of  spirits  sure  you  won't  condemn. 
I  warm  the  blood,  and  doctors  all  agree 
When  that  is  brisk  the  spirits  must  be  free. 

Claret,  With  smileless  jests  and  far-fetcht  repartee, 
For  sure  no  other  wit  was  caused  by  thee. 
The  blood  indeed  you  warm  with  poysnous  ^^ 
But  I  yet  never  heard  you  could  inspire, 
Except  some  Smithfield  poets,  when  they  write 
And  sad  and  lamentable  songs  indite ; 
For  I  have  heard,  when  liberal  draughts  of  thee 
Have  warm'd  the  brains  that  kept  thee  company, 
Such  senseless  strains  pass  currently  for  wit 
As  Irish  tongue  ne'er  spoke  nor  SafT — Id  writ ; 
Whereas  the  friends  that  hug  me  every  night 
(Not  measuring  time  by  hours,  but  by  delight) 
Are  men  of  sense,  deep  judgment,  fancy,  wit ; 
When  they  'bout  me  in  consultation  sit. 
Each  glass  creates  some  pretty  virgin  thought 
Which  but  for  me  had  ne'er  to  light  been  brought ; 
For  poets,  lawyers,  orators  confess 
Their  words  appear  in  the  most  charming  dress 
When  they  of  me  have  took  a  plenteous  glass ; 
If  this  be^true,  faith  I  Darby,  thou'rt  an  ass. 


Local  and  Dialect  Stmgs.  44 1 

Darby,  How  stnmgely  you  iD8alt  and  domineer ; 
You're  foreign  bom,  and  I  a  native  here : 
I  thought  French  breeding  was  more  civilizM. 

Claret.  You  scoundrel  dog,  am  I  not  nat'raliz'd  ? 
The  greatest  part  o'  th'  nation  own  my  juice. 
While  they  with  justice  foggy  ale  refuse. 

Darby.  But  Acu  of  Parliament  'gainst  you  are  made. 

Claret.  What  seem'd  to  crush  has  but  advanc'd  my  trade. 

Darby.  Then  you,  it  seems  (so  very  great  your  sense  is). 
Are  above  law  as  saints  'bove  ordinances ; 
But,  there  may  come  a  time — 

Claret.  When  you  shall  be 

Loaded  uith  shame,  disgrace,  and  in£uny. 
Back  to  thy  native  soyl  return  again, 
While  I  my  grandeur  and  my  pomp  maintain ; 
Thy  credit's  clearly  lost  about  the  town. 
And  none  but  red-nos'd  sots  thy  power  own. 
Else  in  Gazette  and  advertisements  you 
Would  ne'er  have  begg'd  for  custom :  is  this  true  ? 

Darby.  Perhaps  it  may,  perhaps  it  may  be  not. 
May  racking  gouts,  pains,  aches  be  the  lot 
Of  him  that  drinks  thee ;  may  he  be  more  curst 
With  fev'rish  heau  and  an  eternal  thirst. 
Till  raving  madness  him  of  sense  bereaie ! 
So  with  these  hearty  prayers  I  take  my  leave. 

Claret.  What  1  angry.  Darby  ?    Nay,  before  you  go 
Pray  be  so  kind  as  hear  my  wishes  too : 
May  rheums,  defluxions,  catarrh  light  upon 
Thy  favourites ;  but  chiefly  let  the  stone 
Oppress  them  so  that  in  their  fits  they  may, 
To  go  to  hell  for  ease,  devoutly  pray; 
May  palsies  rack  their  joynts,  sharp  pains  their  heads. 
And  not  one  part  about  their  bodies  freed 
From  misery !     And  so  farewell,  old  Darby, 
Bom  at  the  Peak,  or  at  the  devil's  house,  hard  by. 

lExit.-} 


44*  J^  Praise  of  Ale. 

\jind  G.  What  think  you  now.  Will,  who  has  got  the  better 
on't  ? 

I//  G.  They  seem'd  to  be  pretty  equally  matcht;  but  I 
believe  the  poet  loves  claret,  he  seems  to  be  so  favourable  to  that 
side. 

2nd  G.  He's  much  in  the  right  on\  for  faith.  Will,  the  ale 
you  drink  is  a  most  fulsome  liquor.  Let  me  feel  your  pulse. 
Lord,  how  hot  3rou  are !  and  your  hct  looks  as  red  as  a  moon 
m  eclipse.  I'm  resolved  to  undertake  thy  converaon  and  bring 
thee  over  to  the  faith  again ;  and  to-morrow  we'll  dine  at  the 
Rammer,  in  Queen  Street,  and  swim  in  claret. 

lit  G.  I  begin  to  be  a  little  sensible  of  my  mistake ;  but  since 
I  am  under  no  vow,  wager,  or  obligation,  for  once  I  venture  upon 
one  pint  to-nx>rrow,  but  it  will  be  as  cold  and  nauseous  to  me  at 
first  as  the  bitter  draught  to  the  children  troubled  with  the 
worms. 

2nd  G.  Never  think  on't.  Let  the  first  pint  be  what  it  will, 
the  second  shall  absolutely  recover  thee  from  thy  dangerous 
heresy.  I  am  sorry,  tho',  we  must  part  so  soon ;  but  I  have 
business  in  the  city,  and  fear  I  have  overstaid  my  time. 

lit  G.  I  am  sure  I  am  not  very  fit  for  business  of  any  sort  ? 
this  ale  has  got  into  my  head.  I'll  go  to  the  playhouse  to  keep 
myself  out  of  bad  company. 

2nd  G.  A  pleasant  thought.]  [J?x//.] 

Notwithstanding  all  the  disparagement  of  Darby,  as  evinced  in 
the  foregoing,  there  seems  to  have  been  strength  in  the  liquor, 
judging  of  the  efiect  it  had  on  the  butcher  after  indulging  with 
his  lay  and  clerical  friends.  I  have  taken  the  ballad  from 
Mr  Llewellyn  Jewitt's  collection  of  <<  Songs  and  Ballads  of 
Derbyshire.' 


» 


The  Drunkem  Butches.  of  Tideswelu 

Oh,  list  to  me,  ye  yeomen  all, 
Who  live  in  dale  or  down  ; 

My  song  is  of  a  butcher  tall. 
Who  lived  in  Tideswell  town. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  443 

lo  bluff  King  Harry's  merry  days 

He  dew  both  sheep  and  kine. 
And  drank  his  fill  of  nut-brown  ale 

In  lack  of  good  red  wine. 

Beade  the  church  this  butcher  lived. 

Close  to  its  gray  old  walls. 
And  envied  not,  when  trade  was  good. 

The  baron  in  his  halls. 
No  carking  cares  disturbed  his  rest 

When  off  to  bed  he  slunk ; 
And  oft  he  snored  for  ten  good  hours. 

Because  he  got  so  drunk. 

One  only  sorrow  quelled  his  heart. 

As  well  it  might  quell  mine — 
The  fear  of  sprites  and  grisly  ghosts, 

Which  dance  in  the  moonshine, 
Or  wander  in  the  cold  churchyard 

Among  the  dismal  tombs ; 
Where  hemlock  blossoms  in  the  day, 

By  night  the  nightshade  blooms. 

It  chanced  upon  a  summer's  day. 

When  heather  bells  were  blowing. 
Bold  Robin  crossed  o'er  Tideswell  moor, 

And  heard  the  heath-cock  crowing. 
Well  mounted  on  a  forest  nag. 

He  freely  rode  and  fast ; 
Nor  drew  a  rein  'till  Sparrow  Pit 

And  Paislow  Moss  were  past. 

Then  slowly  down  the  hill  he  came 

To  the  Chappelle-en-le-Frith, 
Where,  at  the  Rose  of  Lancaster, 

He  found  his  fnend  the  smith. 


444  t^  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  panoo  and  the  pardoner,  too. 
There  took  their  morning  draught ; 

And  when  they  spied  a  brother  near 
They  all  came  out  and  laughed. 

^  Now  draw  thy  rein,  thou  jolly  butcher ; 

How  hi  ha8t  thou  to  ride  V* 
**  To  Waylee  Bridge,  to  Simon  the  tanner. 

To  sell  this  good  cow-hide." 
**  Thou  shalt  not  go  one  foot  ayont 

'Till  thou  light  and  sup  with  me ; 
And  when  thou'st  emptied  thy  measure  of  liquor 

m  haye  a  measure  wi'  thee." 

**  Oh  no,  oh  no,  thou  drouthy  smith, 

I  cannot  tarry  to-day ; 
The  wife  she  gave  me  a  chaige  to  keep, 

And  I  durst  not  say  her  nay." 
**  What  likes  o'  that,"  said  the  parson  then, 

«*  If  thou'st,  thou'st  ne'er  to  rue : 
Thou  may'st  keep  thy  pledge,  and  drink  thy  stoup. 

As  an  honest  man  e'en  may  do." 

^  Oh  no,  oh  no,  thou  jolly  parson, 

I  cannot  tarry,  I  say ; 
I  was  drunk  last  night,  and  if  I  tarry 

I'se  be  drunk  again  to-day." 
**  What  likes,  what  likes,"  cried  the  pardoner  then, 

Why  tellest  thou  that  to  me  ? 
Thou  may'st  e'en  get  thee  drunk  this  blessed  night. 

And  well  shrived  for  both  thou  shalt  be." 

Then  down  got  the  butcher  from  his  horse, 

I  wot  full  fain  was  he ; 
And  he  drank  'till  the  summer  sun  was  set 

In  that  jolly  company : 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  445 

He  drank  'till  the  tummer  sun  went  down. 

And  the  stars  began  to  thine ; 
And  his  greasy  noddle  was  dazM  and  addle 

With  the  nut-brown  ale  and  wine. 


Then  up  arose  those  four  mad  fellows^ 

And,  joining  hand  in  hand. 
They  danced  around  the  hostel  floor. 

And  sang,  though  they  scarce  could  stand, 
**  We've  aye  been  drunk  on  yester  night. 

And  drunk  the  night  before ; 
And  sae  we're  drunk  again  to-night 

If  we  never  get  drunk  any  more." 

Bold  Robin,  the  butcher,  was  horsed  and  away  ; 

And  a  drunken  wight  was  he ; 
For  sometimes  his  blood-red  eyes  saw  double, 

And  then  he  could  scantly  see. 
The  forest  trees  seemed  to  featly  dance 

As  he  rode  so  swift  along ; 
And  the  forest  trees,  to  his  'wildered  sense, 

Re-sang  the  jovial  song. 

Then  up  he  sped  over  Paislow  Moss, 

And  down  by  the  Chamber  Knowle ; 
And  there  he  was  scared  into  mortal  fears 

By  the  hooting  of  a  bam  owl : 
And  on  he  rode,  by  the  Forest  Wall, 

Where  the  deer  browsed  silently ; 
And  up  the  Slack,  'till  on  Tideswell  Moor 

His  horpe  stood  fair  and  free. 

Just  then  the  moon  from  behind  the  rack 

Burst  out  into  open  view ; 
And  on  the  sward  and  purple  heath 

Broad  light  and  shadow  threw. 


446  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  there  the  butcher,  whose  heart  beat  quick 

With  fears  of  gramarye, 
Fast  by  his  side,  as  he  did  ride, 

A  foul  phantom  did  espy. 

Uprose  the  fell  of  his  head,  uprose 

The  hood  which  his  head  did  shroud ; 
Aud  all  his  teeth  did  chatter  again  ; 

And  he  cried  both  long  and  loud ; 
And  his  horse's  flank  with  his  spur  he  struck, 

As  he  never  had  struck  before, 
And  away  he  galloped. with  might  and  main 

Across  the  barren  moor. 

But  ever  as  fast  as  the  butcher  rode 

The  ghost  did  grimly  glide — 
Now  down  on  the  earth  before  the  horse, 

Then  fast  his  rein  beside ; 
O'er  stock  and  rock  and  stone  and  pit. 

O'er  hill  and  dale  and  down, 
THll  Robin  the  butcher  gained  his  door-stone 

In  Tideswell's  good  old  town. 

*'  Oh,  what  thee  ails,  thou  drunken  butcher  \ " 

Said  his  wife  as  he  sank  down  ; 
And  **  what  thee  ails,  thou  drunken  butcher  ?  " 

Cried  one  half  of  the  town. 
<*  I  have  seen  a  ghost,  it  hath  raced  my  horse 

For  three  good  miles  and  more ; 
And  it  vanished  within  the  churchyard  wall 

As  I  sank  down  at  the  door." 

M  Beshrew  thy  heart  for  a  drunken  beast! " 
Cried  his  wife  as  she  held  him  there ; 

Beshrew  thy  heart  for  a  drunken  beast. 
And  a  coward  with  heart  of  hare. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  447 

No  ghoct  evened  his  wit  with  thine : 

The  ghoct  was  thy  shadow^  thou  drunken  wretch ! 
I  would  the  ghost  were  mine." 

In  another  Derbyshire  ballad,  «  The  Cocktail  Reel/'  printed 
in  the  same  collection,  the  following  quatrain  occurs — 

Oceans  to  drink  bang  called  for. 
Hot  cuddle-me-bufT  was  the  liquor; 

Wife  of  my  own  Jemmy  called  for, 

Old  Hannah  cried,  **  Stephen,  play  quicker.** 

Now  what  is  ^  cuddle-me-bufT?"  I  must  confess  my  ignor- 
ance. 

Darby  was  famous  for  other  things  besides  good  drink  and 
drinkers.  The  world  will  not  willingly  let  the  memoiy  of  that 
famous  ram  die.  When  I  was  a  boy  in  Hampshire  it  was  always 
a  stock  song  among  the  ploughmen  and  shepherds  at  village  fes- 
rivals,  harvest  homes,  and  sheep-shearings.  As  nearly  as  I  can 
remember,  the  first  verse  in  Hampshire  dialect  was — 

As  I  was  gam  to  Darby,  all  on  a  market  deay, 
I  zeed  the  foinest  ram,  zur,  as  ever  wur  fed  wi'  heay. 
His  tail  hung  down  behind,  zur,  'twer  six  yards  and  an  ell. 
And  he  *  wur  sent  to  Darby  for  to  ring  the  market  bell. 

I  don't  remember  the  other  verses,  and  perhaps  it  is  as  well ; 
for,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  they  were  rather  broad. 

From  Darby  and  Burton  to  Birmingham  is  an  easy  and  natural 
transition^  and  the  praises  of  the  hardware  town  have  been  sung 
in  good  style  by  John  Freith,  the  Birmingham  laureat  in  the 
latter  end  of  the  last  and  beginning  of  the  present  century. 

*  According  to  a  well-known  bw  in  Hampthire,  creiything  it  *'  he  " 
but  a  Tom  cat. 


44^  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Birmingham  Besk« 
A  new  song.     Temp.  1 798. 

Tune — **  Ye  prigs  who  are  troubled  with  consrience's  qualms.'' 

Ye  naortalt  who  never,  in  all  your  wild  trips, 
With  good  humming  liquor  saluted  your  lips. 
Give  ear  to  my  story,  ye  strangers  to  cheer, 
The  pleasure  I  sing  of  is  Birmingham  beer ; 
'Tis  here  the  salutis  of  life's  to  be  found  ; 
For  merchants  who  circuit  the  kingdom  around 
Declare,  on  their  travels  from  Thames  to  the  Tweed, 
That  Birmingham  stingo  all  others  exceed. 

I  grant  that  fair  Nottingham  once  bore  the  bell. 

That  our  grandsires  ne'er  tasted  the  sweets  of  good  ale  ; 

But  our  fathers  unravelled  the  myst'ry,  and  we 

Enjoy  the  best  comfort  in  jocular  glee ; 

It  banishes  care,  and  removes  all  our  ills, 

We  sip  at  the  Fountain,  or  tipple  at  Gill's ; 

Then  here,  ye  Salopians,  I  beg  you'd  repair 

If  wonted  to  taste  of  the  choicest  of  beer. 

Our  true  Orthodox,  from  the  barrel  fresh  come. 
Throws  the  tankard  lit  up  by  the  strength  of  the  foam  ; 
This  strike-fire  of  nature,  prepared  right  the  dose. 
Either  'livens  or  lulls  us  to  gentle  repose ; 
'Tis  the  spring  of  invention,  a  balm  that  imparts 
The  cause  that  promotes  and  inspires  us  to  arts ; 
Then  who  would  not  wish  to  partake  of  the  juice 
When  knowing  the  feats  it  is  wont  to  produce  ? 

Let  others  in  vain  boast  of  different  places ; 
But  say,  can  they  turn  out  such  plump  ruddy  faces, 
Such  free  jovial  fellows,  with  cheeks  red  as  roses  ? 
Who  swim  in  October  to  raddle  their  noses? 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  449 

Ye  beer-drinking  souls,  to  good-fellowship  prone. 
That  dwell  miles  a  hundred  or  more  from  our  town, 
'Tis  well  worth  your  notice  amongst  us  to  steer, 
If  only  to  taste  of  fam'd  Birmingham  beer. 

Freeth  was  either  Secretary  or  President  of  the  Birmingham 
Boole  Club,  and  on  him  devolved  the  duty  of  writing  the 
invitations  to  the  annual  gatherings  of  tliat  learned  and  sociable 
body. 

Come  and  take  at  my  table  a  seat, 

(Tho'  granting  the  times  may  be  bad). 

Now  and  then  a  good  dinner  I  get. 
And  my  share  of  good  ale  1  have  had« 

Complaining  would  be  a  mere  folly; 

1  ne'er  had  the  Gkavel  nor  Gout  ; 
Shrove  Tuesday's  the  time  to  be  jolly. 

So  pass  the  glass  briskly  about. 

Impatient  the  people  are  grown, 
For  news — all  suspense  to  dispel ; 

At  Amiens  the  work's  neariy  done. 
In  Amity  long  may  we  dwell. 

Animosities  hence  done  away. 

Bright  Commerce  enliv'ning  the  shore. 

Let  this  be  the  Toast  of  the  day. 
Good  Fellowship  all  the  world  o'er. 

Then  follows  the  invitation  for  1 800 : — 

Tho'  dear  as  things  are,  o'er  the  sociable  cup. 
On  Friday  attend — keep  the  old  Charter  up; 
Howe'er  some  may  prosper,  whilst  others  are  dish'd. 
The  bulk  of  the  people,  'tis  ardently  wished 
Much  larger  will  see,  e'er  tliree  signs  the  sun  passes. 
Our  sixpenny  loaves,  and  our  twopenny  glasses. 

2  w 


450  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Till  old  father  time  ev'ry  matter  adjusts, 

The  world  will  wag  od,  for  its  axis  ne'er  rusts ; 

And  since  through  the  kingdom,  'tis  very  well  known , 

More  money  will  still  be  the  minister's  tone ; 

Then  let  us  at  present  drink  sorrow  away, 

For  no  man  can  live  without  moistening  his  clay. 

The  next  year,  1801,  we  have  : — 

Respecting  mankind's  old  habitual  fare, 
Whatever  new  modes  are  invented; 

If  White  Bread  I  can't  for  my  table  prepare, 
I  trust  you'll  with  Brown  be  contented. 

For  support,  on  a  generous  public  much  lies. 
Wholesome  soup  many  keeps  from  starvation ; 

Good  Ale  very  scarce  is,  and  Christmas  Mince  Pics, 
It  seems  are  almost  out  of  fashion. 

On  Russia,  since  England  has  got  a  strong  claim, 
John  Bull — as  to  there  a  short  dance  is — 

May  serve  the  magnanimous  Paul  much  the  same 
As  the  French  serve  the  Emperor  Francis. 

Although  common  food  is  uncommonly  dear, 

Endeavour  to  make  the  heart  gay ; 
And  let  at  the  board,  over  plain  English  cheer, 

Better  Times  be  the  Toast  of  the  Day. 


For  1799. 

In  these  plentiful  days, 

If  the  heart  is  at  ease, 
And  you've  got  a  few  minutes  to  spare. 

With  a  friend  and  a  cup. 

Keep  the  old  custom  up, 
And  be  happy  o'er  good  English  fare. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  45 1 

Be  the  timet  bad  or  good. 

It  is  DOW  underttoody 
That  the  Centuky  ends  with  this  year. 

May  the  next  we  begin 

Be  with  Peace  ushered  in. 
And  its  Blessings  diffused  far  and  near. 

By  reading  we  find 

Constant  food  for  the  mind. 
But  as  War  we  have  cause  to  deplore ; 

As  a  Toast  whilst  I  live. 

Free  and  fondly  I'll  give. 
Good  Fellowship  all  the  world  o'er. 

Be&skam  and  Brymbo. 

I  don't  know  who  John  Wilkinson  was  (probably  a  Welsh 
ironmaster),  but  the  song  in  his  honour  is  worth  reprinting : — 

John  Wilkinson. 

Ye  workmen  of  Bersham  and  Brymbo  draw  near. 
Sit  down,  take  your  pipe,  and  my  song  you  shall  hear, 
I  sing  not  of  war,  or  the  state  of  the  nation ; 
Such  subjecu  as  these  produce  nought  but  vexation. 
Derry  down,  down,  down,  deny  down. 

But  before  I  proceed  any  more  with  my  lingo. 
You  shall  drink  my  toast  in  a  bumper  of  stingo ; 
Fill  it  up,  and  without  any  further  parade, 
John  Wilkinson,  boys,  that  supporter  of  trade. 

May  all  his  endeavours  be  crown'd  with  success, 
And  his  works,  ever  growbg,  prosperity  Uess; 
May  his  comforts  increase  with  the  length  of  his  days, 
And  his  fame  shine  as  bright  u  his  furnaces  blaze. 

That  the  wood  of  old  England  would  foil,  did  appear, 
And  though  iron  was  scarce  because  charcoal  was  dear, 

2  F  2 


452  In  Prcuse  of  Ale. 

By  paddling  and  stamping  he  cured  that  evil, 

So  the  Swedes  and  the  Russians  may  go  to  the  devil. 

Our  thundering  cannon  too  frequently  burst, 
A  mischief  so  great  he  prevented  the  first. 
And  now  it  is  well  known  they  never  miscarry, 
But  drive  all  our  foes  with  a  blast  to  Old  Harry. 

Then  let  each  jolly  fellow  take  hold  of  his  glass. 
And  drink  to  the  health  of  his  friend  and  his  lass ; 
May  we  always  have  plenty  of  stingo  and  pence, 
And  Wilunson's  fame  blaze  a  thousand  years  hence. 

The  adventures  or  misadventures  of  a  Sussex  chawbacon  are 
well  set  forth  in  this  extract.  The  provincialisms  are  note- 
worthy, and  in  striking  contrast  to  those  which  have  gone 
before : — 

**  For  Sister  Sal  five  years  ago, 

Went  off  with  Squyer  Brown  ; 
Housemaid  or  summat,  don't  know  what, 
To  live  at  Lunnon  Town. 

They  'hav'd  uncommon  well  to  Sal, 

An  ge'ur  clothes  and  dat ; 
So  Sal  'hav'd  nashun  well  to  them, 

And  grow'd  quite  tall  and  fat. 

A  liddle  aluss  stood  close  by. 

Thinks  I,  Til  go  in  here, 
An  git,  ye  see,  a  coger  loike 

Of  good  bren  cheese  and  beer. 


Now  wost  ant  was,  I  cudn't  read 

De  letters  on  de  post ; 
So  sometimes  I  went  round  about 

An  other-while  was  lost." 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  453 

And  when  Tim  got  to  Crayton  (Croydon)  town,  he  asked 
an  ostler  for  a  bed  : — 

•*  *  0*1  mate  I  cum  a  tejus  way, 
As  far  as  I  be  able  ; 
ril  trate  ya  wud  a  pot  o'  beer 
To  let  mt  in  your  stable.' 

*  Why  yahsy  ya  seem  a  'onest  man/ 

The  stable  chap  did  say, 
'  Ya  may  lay  down  in  dat  dere  pen, 

Among  that  good  soth  hay.' 


Sum  sed  I  wud  o'l  leather  legs, 
Sum  pointed  to  ma  hat. 

An  ax'd  ma  uf  a  swarm  of  bees 
Was  housen  under  dat ! '' 


^  Ale  rules  the  camps,  the  groves,  the  forts. 
From  Land's  End  to  the  John  o'  Groats." 

The  praises  of  Edinbro'  ale  have  been  said,  and  they  now  shall 
be  sung. 

Scotland  has  of  late  years  been  more  &mous  for  mountain  dew 
and  usquebaugh  at  the  gatherings  of  '*  Long  John  "  than  for  ale ; 
yet  we  find  they  can  not  only  brew,  but  appreciate  good  malt 
liquor,  as  is  shown  in  the  following ;  and  the  '<  Cogie  o'  Yill "  is 
a  grand  institution,  mon.  Of  course  the  convivial  and  very  canny 
Scot  who  insists  that  his  friend  should  *^  stand  his  pint  stoup 
first,"  could  scarcely  mean  to  put  awa'  twa  pints  o'  whisky  be- 
tween two  friends  at  one  sitting,  though,  as  a  rule,  their  capa- 
city for  the  national  drink  is  great  "Johnnie  Dowie"  was  a 
well-known  Edinburgh  character  who  kept  a  tavern  in  Libberton's 
Wyndy  which  was  much  frequented  by  the  literary  society  of  the 
Scottish  metropolis  at  the  latter  end  of  the  last  century.  The 
following  squib  was  printed  and  circulated  among  his  friends  by 
"  Honest "  John  himself,  and  published  in  the  Scott  Majazme 


454  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

for  1 806,  and  attributed  to  Burns,  who  was  a  ^quent  visitor  of 
Mr  Dowie ;  but  the  real  author  was  Mr  Hunter,  of  Blackness. 
The  contents  of  Dowie's  larder  are  interesting  in  reference  to  the 
resources  of  an  Edinburgh  tavern  of  the  period  (1789). 

Johnnie  Dowie's  Ale. 

A'  ye  wha  wis',  on  e'enings  lang 
To  meet  and  crack,  and  sing  a  sang, 
And  weet  your  pipes,  for  little  wrang 

To  purse  or  person. 
To  sere  (serious)  Johnnie  Dowie's  gang, 

There  thrum  a  verse  on. 

O,  Dowie's  ale !  thou  art  the  thing 
That  gars  us  crack,  and  gars  us  sing. 
Cast  by  our  cares,  our  wants  a'  fling 

Frae  us  with  anger: 
Thou  e'en  mak'st  passion  tak  the  wing. 

Or  thou  wilt  bang  'er. 

How  bless'd  is  he  wha  has  a  groat 
To  spare  upon  the  cheering  pot! 
He  may  look  blythe  as  ony  Scot 
That  e'er  was  bom : 
.  Gie's  a'  the  like,  but  in'  a  coat 

An'  guide  frae  scorn. 

But  think  na  tliat  strong  ale  alone 
Is  a'  that's  kept  by  dainty  John; 
Na,  na,  for  i*  the  place  there's  none, 

Frae  end  to  end, 
For  meat  can  set  you  better  on 

Than  can  your  friend. 

Wi'  looks  as  mild  as  mild  can  be, 
Wi'  smudgin'  laugh,  wi'  winkin'  ee: 


Local  and  Dialect  Sengs. 

Ao'  ]ovJj  bow  down  to  hit  knee, 
He'U  my  fii'  douce, 

"  WhCi  gendenKo,  wait  till  I  tee 
What'i  i'  the  boute." 


Aoither  bow — "Deed,  gif  ye  p\eaae, 
Ye  am  {ct  a  bit  o'  toa*ted  checK, 
A  cnim  o'  tripe,  ham,  diih-  o'  peaie, 

(The  Matoo'i  £ttin',) 
Ad  egg,  or  cauler  frae  the  tnt, 

A  fleuk,  or  whittn'. 

A  nice  beef  fteak— or  ye  may  get 
A  gude  bulTd  berring,  reiwed  »kate. 
Ad  ingau,  an'  (tho'  pan  tu  date) 

A  cut  o'  veal  i 
Ha,  ba !  it'i  no  that  unco  late, 

I'll  do  it  weel." 

O  Geordie  Robenaon,  dreigb  loon. 
An'  anti(]uarian  Paton  *oun ; 
Wi'  mony  ithen  i'  the  town. 

What  wad  come  o'er  ye, 
Gif  Johanie  Dowie  ihould  itap  down 

To  th'  grave  before  ye  i 

Ve  Hire  wad  break  your  heart!  wi'  grief. 
Ad'  id  itroog  ale  find  na  relief. 
War  ye  to  loie  your  Dowie — chief 

O'  bottle  Iteepen ; 
Three  year*  at  leaat,  now  to  be  brief, 

Yc'd  gang  wi'  weepen. 

But,  gude  fetbid  !  for  your  aaket  a', 
That  Mc  an  uaefu'  roan  thould  la' t 


456  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

For,  frien's  o'  mioe,  between  us  twa. 

Right  i'  your  lug, 
You'd  lose  a  houfF,  baith  warm  and  braw, 

An'  unco  snug. 

Then  pray  for*8  health  this  roony  a  year, 
Fresh  thre-*n-a-ha'penny,  best  o'  beer, 
That  can,  tho'  dull,  you  brawly  cheer. 

Recant  you  weel  up; 
An'  gar  you  a'  forget  your  wear, 

Your  sorrows  seal  up. 

"  Another  bottle,  John !  " 
"  Gentlemen,  Vs  past  twelve,  and  time  to  go  home.*' 

This  last  line  was  a  clencher,  and  brings  us  to  an  ignominious 
ending,  suggestive  of  the  *<  chucker  out.** 

Here  is  a  more  modem  composition  in  praise  of  *' Prime 
Edinburgh  ale,"  written  by  W.  H.  Murray,  manager  of  the 
Theatre  Royal,  Edinburgh,  and  sang  to  the  tune  of  *<  Home, 
sweet  home."  There  are  many  other  capital  Scotch  songs,  which 
appear  in  another  place. 

From  the  Land's  End  to  Orkney  Isle,  wherever  you  may  sail. 
There's  no  drink  that  you  can  get  to  match  prime  Edinbro'  ale. 
A  bottle  of  John  Dryburgh's  best  will  drown  all  care: 
Prime  Edinburgh  ale  is  not  met  with  everywhere. 

There's  several  friends  of  mine  whose  brains  they  will  slaughter 

By  drinking  large  quantities  of  whisky  and  water: 

They  get  very  fou,  and  next  morning  tells  the  tale — 

Now  I  never  has  no  headaches,  'cos  I  drink  nothing  else  but  ale. 

There's  another  friend  of  mine,  that  preaches  up  sobriety. 
Says  I  ought  to  be  a  member  of  a  temperance  society. 
But  to  try  and  drink  with  me,  they'd  find  it  no  avail — 
rd  keep  them  all  sober,  by  drinking  all  the  ale. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  457 

The  following  modernised  version  of  an  older  song  shows 
that  the  country  gentry  kept  up  their  old  mansions  at  a  bountiful 
old  rate  with  a  good  old  porter  to  relieve  the  old  poor  at  their 
gate:— 

The  Dorsetshihe  'Squae  ;  oa,  A  Mug  of  Nut-Bkown  Alb* 

A  wealthy  'squire  in  Dorsetshire 

Enjoyed  the  charms  of  life ; 
His  time  was  spent  in  sweet  content. 

He  never  harboured  strife. 
This  happy  'squire  of  Dorsetshire 

Lived  in  a  pleasant  vale; 
His  chief  delight,  at  noon  and  night, 

A  mug  of  nut-brown  ale. 

The  wealthy  'squire  of  Dorsetshire 

Would  ne'er  the  poor  oppress ; 
But  ai  impart,  with  cheerful  heart. 

To  merit  in  distress. 
No  envious  tongue,  with  venom  stung, 

'Gainst  him  did  e'er  prevail ; 
'Twas  pleasure  rare  with  him  to  share 

A  mug  of  nut-bi*own  ale. 

This  is  a  far  kindlier  philosophy  than  that  of  the  egotistical 
humbug  who  invited  *<  John  Brown  to  come  and  take  a  glass  in 
his  arbour  when  he'd  pass,"  but  took  it  out  of  John  by  inflicting 
his  crude  platitudes  upon  him  without  allowing  him  to  get  in  a 
word  edgeways. 

Here  is  the  converse  of  the  foregoing  song: — 

EricaAM  ON  Sit  CHiusTOPHEt  Hawkins  of  Tuwsthen. 

A  large  park  with  no  deer, 

A  large  cellar  with  no  beer, 

A  large  house  with  no  cheer. 

N,B, — Sir  Christopher  Hawkins  lives  here. 


458  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Dorchester. 

At  one  time  "  The  pale-hued  Dorchester  and  stout  nut  brown  " 
was  the  popular  drink  of  London,  and  that  long  before  Burton 
was  drank  to  any  great  extent,  since  it  is  noteworthy  that  the 
Dorset  and  Burton  ales  were  better  known  on  the  Continent,  and 
in  Russia  especially,  than  they  were  in  London.  This  is  readily 
accounted  for  by  the  cost  of  transit  by  the  common  stage  waggon 
as  against  the  cost  of  shipment  by  sea.  Old  Pepys  records  that 
the  capture  of  a  ship  brought  him  a  cask  of  "  North  Down  ale ; " 
and  Mr  T.  Hardy  in  his  "  Trumpet  Major  "  sounds  the  praises 
of  Dorset  ale  with  no  uncertain  sound. 

'*  In  the  liquor  line,  Loveday  laid  in  an  ample  barrel  of  Dor- 
chester *  strong  beer.'  This  renowned  drink  was  not  only  well 
calculated  to  win  the  hearts  of  soldiers  blown  dry  and  dusty  by 
residence  in  tents  on  a  hill  top,  but  of  any  wayfarer  whaterer  in 
that  land.  It  was  of  the  most  beautiful  colour  that  the  eye  of  an 
artist  in  beer  could  desire ;  full  in  body,  yet  brisk  as  a  volcano ; 
piquant,  yet  without  a  twang;  luminous  as  an  autumn  sunset; 
irtt  from  streakiness  of  taste  ;  but,  finally,  rather  heady.  The 
masses  worshipped  it,  the  minor  gentry  loved  it  more  than  wine, 
and  by  the  most  illustrious  county  families  it  was  not  despised. 
Anybody  brought  up  for  being  drunk  or  disorderly  in  the  streets 
of  its  natal  borough,  had  only  to  prove  that  he  was  a  stranger  to 
the  place  and  its  liquors,  to  be  honourably  dismissed  by  the  magis- 
trates as  one  overtaken  in  a  fault  that  no  man  could  guard  against 
who  entered  the  town  unawares/' 

The  strength  of  the  brewage  is  shown  by  the  following  scraps 
of  conversation  between  two  carters  from  the  country  who  met  in 
the  town  of  Dorchester,  when  one  says:  «*  We  mus'  hae  a  quart 
now,  lad.  Wer  shel  us  go,  you  ? "  The  other  :  «  Wer !  Why, 
th'  *  Dree  Maliners'  (a  well-known  inn  in  the  town),  to  be  sure. 
Thic's  the  beer  for  I,  'tis  zo  herd*s  doore  nayles.  A  quart  ot  ud 
gie  d'had  aike  vur  dree  days." 

In  the  Rev.  Thomas  Cox's  "  History  of  Dorsetshire,"  pub- 
lished A.D.  1 7CX>,  he  states  that  "  Dorchester  is  famous  for  a  sort 
of  cakes  called  Dorchester  cakes ;  and  since  by  the  French  wars 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  459 

the  coming  of  Frrach  wine  it  prohibited^  the  people  here  have 
learned  to  brew  the  finest  malt  liquors  in  the  kingdom,  so 
delicately  clean  and  well  tasted  that  the  best  judges  not  only 
prefer  it  to  the  ales  most  in  vogue,  as  Hull,  Derby,  Burton,  Sec, 
because  'tis  not  so  heady,  but  look  upon  it  to  be  little  inferior  to 
the  common  wines,  and  better  than  the  sophisticated  which  is 
usually  sold." 

Another  extract  from  Hutchins'  "History  of  Dorset,"  ist 
edition,  published  about  the  year  1750,  shows  that: — On  the 
breaking  out  of  the  wars  with  France,  and  the  prohibition  of 
French  wines,  nudting  and  brewing  vrere  carried  here  to  great 
perfection,  and  they  sent  great  quantities  of  excellent  beer  to 
London  and  foreign  parts,  but  since  1725  this  trade  is  decayed. 
The  trade  of  nudting,  however,  seems  to  have  been  carried  on  to 
a  great  extent  in  this  town  at  a  much  earlier  period,  particularly 
during  the  17th  century,  when  Dorchester  was  already  cele- 
brated for  its  malt  and  beer.  The  increase  of  this  business 
seems  to  have  occasioned  an  Act,  made  9  and  10  William  III., 
to  repeal  an  Act  39  Elizabeth  to  restrain  excessive  making  of 
malt 

That  the  brewers  and  malting  interests  were  well  looked  after 
is  shown  by  the  following  Minutes  from  the  Books  of  the 
Corporation  of  Dorchester : — 

July  13th,  1631:  "Whereas  the  pavement  of  the  towne 
streetes  are  much  tome  and  annoyed  by  the  brewers'  carte  wheels 
by  reason  of  the  iron  bonds,  it  is  now  ordered  that  none  of  the 
brewers  of  this  towne  shall  after  the  xxiiiith  day  of  August  next 
carry  any  beere  abroad  in  the  towne  with  iron  bonds,  5cc." 

Sept  nth,  1639  :  *^This  day  Joseph  Michell,  of  Salisbury, 
commended  upon  the  company  by  Mr  Bailiff  Bury  and  Mr  Dennis 
Bond  for  his  honesty  and  abilitie  in  maulting  as  they  are  in- 
formed by  good  testymony  is  agreed  with  by  the  company  to 
make  for  one  year  from  Michaelmas  next  of  all  the  mault  the 
hospital  brewhouse  shall  spend  and  use,  and  to  employ  himself 
and  his  manservant  therein  diligently,  and  his  servant  to  help  the 
brewers  when  they  tonne  their  beere,  and  he  undertaketh  to  make 
good  and  sufficient  mault  and  to  have  for  wages  for  him  and  his 


460  In  Praise  ofAie. 

man  30  11,  and  in  beere  that  is  howse  sprad  as  much  as  3  li. 
yearly ;  and  the  said  Joseph  agreeth  during  that  tyme  to  use  no 
other  emplojrment  for  himselfe  or  his  man  without  the  allowance 
of  this  company,  and  he  is  to  take  and  give  account  of  all  the 
barley  he  receives  in  and  mault  delivered  unto  the  store  howses." 

The  praises  of  Dorset  having  been  said,  they  now  shall  be  sung 
in  the  local  dialect  taken  from  the  late  Rev.  William  Barnes' 
valuable  collection  of  rural  poems.  The  farmers,  formerly  the 
farmers'  wives,  would  superintend  the  brewing  of  the  beer  fbr 
home  consumption.  There  was  the  strong  beer,  the  second,  and 
the  uble  beer,  or  •*  swankey,"  as  it  was  irreverently  called,  and 
was  generally  sent  to  the  harvest  fields  to  allay  thirst  whilst  work- 
ing. At  the  "nuncheons"  and  the  "nammits"  the  better 
quality  was  discussed. 

PiAisE  o'  Dorset. 

We  Do'set,  though  we  mid  be  homely, 

Ben't  ash«im'd  to  own  our  pleace 
An'  we've  some  women  not  uncomely. 

Nor  esheam'd  to  show  their  feace: 
We've  a  mead  or  two  woth  mow^n. 
We've  an  ox  or  two  wo'th  show^n. 
In  the  village, 
At  the  tillage. 
Come  along  an'  you  shall  find 
That  Do'set  men  don't  sheam  their  kind. 

Friend  an'  wife, 

Fathers,  mothers,  sisters,  brothers, 
Happy,  happy  be  their  life! 
Vor  Do'set  dear. 
Then  gi'e  woone  cheer; 
D'ye  hear  ?  woone  cheer! 

If  you  in  Do'set  be  a-rom^n, 

An'  ha'  business  at  farm. 
Then  woont  ye  zee  your  eale  a  foam^n  ! 

Or  your  cider  down  to  warm  ? 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  46 1 

Woont  ye  have  brown  bread  a-put  ye, 
An'  iome  ?bny  cheeae  ♦  a-cut  ye? 

Butter? — rolls  o't! 

Cream  ? — why  bowls  o*t ! 
Woont  ye  have,  in  short  your  ytlly 
A-gi'ed  wi'  a  right  good  will  ? 
Friend,  Sec,  &c. 

An'  woont  ye  have  vor  ev'ry  ahill^ny 

Shill^n's  worth  at  any  shop, 
Though  Do'set  chaps  be  up  to  zell^n, 

An'  can  meake  a  tidy  swop  ? 
Use  em  well,  they'll  use  you  better, 
In  good  turns  they  woont  be  debtor. 
An'  so  comely, 
An'  80  hwomely. 
Be  the  maidens,  if  your  son 
Took  woone  o*m,  then  you'd  cry  **  Well  done  !  *' 
Friend,  See,  &c. 

If  you  do  see  our  good  men  travel, 
Down  a-voot  or  on  their  meares. 
Along  the  wind^n  leanes  o'  gravel, 

To  the  market*  or  the  fe'airs, 
Though  their  houses  cwoats  be  ragged, 
Though  the  men  be  muddy-lagg^, 
Be  they  roughish. 
Be  they  gruffish, 
They  be  sound,  an'  they  will  stand 
By  what  is  right  wi'  heart  an'  hand. 
Friend,  &c..  Sec. 

Next  to  the  carols,  harvest  home  songs  are  probably  the  oldest 
extant  in  praise  of  beer  and  hospitality  and  good  cheer  generally. 
The  description  of  harvest  home  supper  and  Whitsun  *'  veaatf  " 
will  be  found  in  the  native  dialect  among  the  Christmas  and 

«  •*  Vinny  cheete  '*  U  the  rich  blue  part  of  a  ripe  SUlton,  North  Wilts, 
or  Dorset  cheete. 


462  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Whitsuntide  songs  which  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  transcribing 
from  the  Rev.  Mr  Barnes'  invaluable  collection.* 

According  to  an  old  distich,   it  does  not  do  to  mix  your 
liquors — 

"  Cider  on  beer  is  very  good  cheer, 
But  beer  upon  cider's  a  rider." 

By  a  *<  rider  "  is  meant  that  it  does  not  mix  with  the  previous 
beverage,  and  thus  produces  unpleasantness.  Here  is  another 
reason  which  those  who  have  partaken  of  the  hospitality  of  the 
southern  farmers  will  appreciate: — 

"  The  mugs  were  large,  the  ale  was  wondrous  strong." 

If  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  believe  the  Dorsetshire  Brewers' 
Association  in  general,  and  Messrs  Eldred,  Pope  &  Co.  in 
particular,  are  taking  steps  to  re-assert  their  old  supremacy,  for 
the  ale  of  the  district  is  as  good  as  ever,  or  I  am  no  judge. 
Mr  Pope,  the  worthy  initiator  of  this  movement,  has  honourably 
fulfilled  the  duties  of  Mayor  to  the  ancient  borough  of  Dor- 
chester. "  The  Ale  "  only  requires  to  be  known  in  London  to 
be  appreciated.  I  see  no  reason  why  they  should  not  do  so ; 
the  L.  and  S.W.R.  transports  "Alton  Ale*'  in  large  quantities 
to  London.  "  Brighton  Nipper,"  "  Yarmouth  Ale,"  "  Strat- 
ford Ale,"  "Dorchester  Guinea,"  and  "  Youngers'  Edinbro'," 
are  all  ^miliar  in  T^ondon  and  our  mouths  as  household  words. 
Rouse  up  ye  men  of  Dorset,  re-assert  your  old  position  ;  don't 
drink  all  the  Dorset  "  yell "  yourselves.  If,  as  I  would  ^in 
hope,  this  book  would  be  one  means  of  inducing  the  public  to 
revert  back  to  good  honest  beer,  we  ought  to  have  every  variety 
of  ales  to  choose  from.  London  is  a  big  place,  and  the  inhabi- 
tants are  a  drouthy  lot,  so  that  the  more  varieties  of  ale  we 
have  the  merrier. 

"  The  want  of  a  drop  of  good  beer 
Drives  lots  to  tipple  more  dear, 

*  Kegan  Paul  &  Co.,  Patemotter  Square,  B.C. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs,  463 

And  they  licks  their  wives. 

And  dettroyt  their  lives. 

Which  they  never  would  do  upon  beer." 

Look  to  it,  ye  gentlemen  of  the  Brewery  fraternity. 

I  uke  the  next  two  Wiltshire  dialect  songs  from  Mr  Tom 
Hughes'  capital  description  of  the  high  jinks  that  went  on  at  the 
periodical  ceremony  of  "  Scouring  the  White  Horse." 

Tovey's  Taf. 
Jir—**  Deny  Down." 

Old  Tovey  once  brewed  a  barrel  o'  beer, 
For  he  war  a  man  as  lovM  good  cheer ; 
And,  zays  he,  PU  jest  ax  a  vew  o'  my  vriends 
To  come  and  try  how  the  likker  spends. 

Derry  Down. 

There's  long  Tam  Ockle,  he  shall  be  one, 
And  little  Jack  Smith,  who's  as  round  as  a  tun, 
And  owld  Gaarge  Nfabbutt,  who's  alius  a-dry, 
ril  warn  they  make  good  company. 

Derry  Down. 

The  barrel  war  tapped,  and  the  beer  runned  well, 
How  much  they  vour  drinked  I  never  heard  tell ; 
But  zome  how  or  other  they  one  and  all 
Did  zwear  as  how  the  drink  were  small. 

Derry  Down. 

Old  Tovey  at  this  did  look  main  scrow,* 
Zays  he  **  My  vriends  I'd  hev'ee  kneow 
That  my  beer  has  made  'ee  as  drunk  as  pigs, 
And  not  one  o'  you  dree  can  kip  on  his  legs." 

Derry  Down. 
They  left  the  house,  and  the  path  they  tuk, 
Athert  the  meadow  as  leads  to  the  brook ; 
And  you  plainly  med  zee  as  every  man 
Had  a  pair  o'  crooked  stockings  on. 

Derry  Down. 

•Angry. 


464  Jn  Praise  of  Ale. 

Tt^Ljs  Mabbutt  t*  Ockle  "  Olwd  Tovey  were  zurly," 
Zays  Ockle  t'  Mabbutt  "  I'm  uDcommon  purly ;  * 
Be  mindful,  I  zay,  vor  yer  missusses'  zakes, 
Which  o'  tliem  two  narrer  bridges  you  takes. 

Derry  Down. 

**Tbe  brook  is  main  deep,"  Gaarge  Mabbutt  then  said, 
And  he  looked  at  the  water,  and  scratched  his  yead ; 
''And  I  owns  I  should  mazingly  like  for  to  know 
Auver  which  o'  they  bridges  you  aims  for  to  go. 

Derry  Down. 

Tis  an  akkerdish  place  to  cross  in  the  night, 
And  to  stand  here  till  momin'  wouldn't  be  right ; 
'Taint  a  mossell  o'  use  to  bide  slubbering  here, 
Zo  let's  go  back  and  vinish  the  barrel  o'  beer." 

Deny  Down. 

The  Shefherd's  Song. 

Come  all  you  shepherds  of  minds  for  to  be, 

You  must  have  a  gallant  heart. 
You  must  not  be  down-hearted, 
You  must  a-bear  the  smart ; 
Let  it  be  hail  or  rain  or  snow. 

For  there  is  no  ale  to  be  had  on  the  hill 
When  the  wintry  wind  doth  blow. 

When  I  kept  sheep  on  White  Horse  Hill 

My  heart  began  to  ache, 
My  old  ewes  all  hung  down  their  heads. 

And  my  lambs  began  to  bleat ; 
Then  I  cheered  up  with  courage  bold. 
And  over  the  hill  did  go. 

For  there  is  no  ale  to  be  had  on  the  hill 
When  the  wintry  wind  doth  blow. 

•  Purblind, 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  465 

I  drive  my  sheep  into  the  fold 
To  keep  them  safe  all  night, 
For  drinking  of  good  ale,  my  boys, 

It  is  my  heart's  delight. 
I  drive  my  sheep  into  the  fold, 
And  homeward  I  did  go, 

For  there  is  no  ale  to  be  had  on  the  hill 
When  the  wintry  wind  doth  blow. 

We  shepherds  are  the  liveliest  lads 

As  ever  trod  English  ground, 
If  we  drops  into  an  ale-house 

We  values  not  a  crownd. 
We  values  not  a  crownd,  my  boys. 
We'll  pay  before  wc  go, 

For  there  is  no  ale  to  be  had  on  the  hill 
When  the  wintry  sun  is  low. 

The  annexed  stanzas  are  from  an  old  ballad  known  as  **  The 
Wiltshire  Wedding,"  reproduced  in  Chappell's  old  English 
songs  and  melodies  ;  the  verses  describe  the  outfit  and  attire  of  a 
Wiltshire  rustic : — 

AH  in  a  misty  morning, 

Cloudy  was  the  weather, 
I  meeting  with  an  old  man 

CIothM  all  in  leather, 
With  ne'er  a  shirt  upon  his  back. 

But  wool  unto  his  skin, 
With  how  dye  do,  how  dye  do,  and  how  dye  do  again. 

The  rustic  was  a  thrasher, 

And  on  his  way  be  hied. 
And  with  a  leather  bottle 

Fast  buckled  to  his  side, 
And  with  a  cap  of  woollen 
Which  covered  cheek  and  chin, 
With  how  dye  do,  &c. 

2  o 


4^6  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

Here  are  two  other  stanzas,  containing  the  shepherd's  8up;)ei 
bill-of-fare  from  Pratt's  operetta,  "  Love's  Trials  " : — 

''  Then  a  sheaf  of  good  bread,  nice  and  brown  as  a  nut, 
Or  on  curds  he  regales  white  as  snow. 
With  the  maid  that  he  loves  he  partakes  of  the  fruit, 
That  thinking  of  her  he  in  scrip  did  well  stow. 

Then  tales  full  of  glee  go  gossiping  round. 

As  round  the  good  nut  brown  roost  nimbly  doth  trot. 

Whilst  shepherd  sits  singing  his  cares  all  away. 
Till  on  quills  of  fair  straw  to  his  bed  he  be  got." 

John  Taylor,  the  water  poet,  who  flourished  1 584-1654,  was 
the  most  voluminous  writer  on  beer  of  his  day — among  others,  his 
address  to  the  men  of  Wiltshire,  which  is  worth  reproducing : — 
*'  I  am  assured  there  are  many  good  men  in  the  city  and  county  of 
Wiltshire,  and  others  of  worth  and  good  respect  in  this  kingdom 
who  would  willingly  and  bountifully  assist  this  good  work ;  but 
(like  gossips'  new  style)  they  stand  straining  courtesy  who  shall 
go  first.  You  have  already  begun  a  charitable  work  amongst 
you  ;  I  mean  your  common  town  brewhouse,  the  profits  of  which 
you  intend  shall  be  wholly  employed  for  the  supply  of  the  poor 
and  impotent,  which  live  in  your  city ;  fix>m  which  sort  of  people 
(being  such  a  multitude)  the  brewers  there  have  found  their  best 
custom ;  for  no  doubt  but  the  meanest  beggar  amongst  you  is 
(in  some  sort)  more  valiant  than  the  richest  man ;  because  the 
one  dares  spend  all  he  hath  in  at  the  alehouse,  so  dares  not  the 
other ;  for  the  poor  man  drinks  stifiiy  to  drive  care  away,  and 
and  hath  nothing  to  lose ;  and  the  rich  man  drinks  moderately, 
because  he  must  bear  a  brain  to  look  to  what  he  hath." 

In  the  ancient  Cornish  customs,  as  given  by  Mr  Robert  Hunt 
in  his  entertaining  volumes  on  the  drolls  and  legends  of  Cornwall, 
^  Bet  of  the  Mill "  relates  to  the  squire  how  madame  and  herself 
passed  the  time  away  in  spinning  whilst  the  other  company  were 
out  at  a  **  guise  dancing."  They  agreed  to  spin  for  pastime,  and 
for  that  purpose : — 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  467 

«  We  took  the  rushes  up  from  the  floor. 
From  up  by  the  chimney,  down  by  the  door. 
When  we  had  the  wool  corded  ready  to  spin. 
It  came  into  our  heads  before  we'd  begin 
We'd  have  a  jug  of  hot  spiced  beer, 
To  put  life  in  our  heels,  our  hearts  to  cheer. 
So  we  drank  the  health  of  one  and  all. 
While  the  holly  and  bays  look'd  bright  on  the  walL" 

On  the  27th  August  1660,  Pepys  records,  ^Came  a  vessel  of 
North  Down  ale  from  Mr  Pierce,  the  purser,  to  me,  and  a  brave 
turkey  carpet,  and  a  jar  of  olives,"  &c.,  &c. 

Wales. 

'*  To  the  praise  of  Gambinius,  that  old  British  King 
Who  devis'd  for  the  nation  (by  the  Welchman's  tale) 
Seventeen  hundred  years  before  Christ  did  spring. 
The  happie  invention  of  a  pot  of  good  ale." 

When  Randall  wrote  the  above  ra  1 642,  he  doubtless  only 
gave  currency  to  a  tradition  then  extant,  which  went  to  show, 
what  is  a  matter  of  fact,  that  the  Welsh  were  ale  drinkers  from 
a  very  early  period.  The  tradition  also  confirms  Archdeacon 
Rollestone,  in  his  learned  dissertation  on  the  high  antiquity  of  the 
drink.  When  the  Romans  came  over  they  found  the  aborigines 
were  no  strangers  to  that  liquor  which  served  to  strengthen  their 
bodies  and  exhilarate  their  spirits.  In  the  Court  of  Wales  the 
brewer  was  a  high  functionary,  taking  the  precedence  of  physicians. 
There  were  three  things  which  were  communicated  to  the  king 
before  being  made  known  to  the  world  at  large. 

1 .  Every  sentence  of  the  judge. 

2.  Every  new  song. 

3.  Every  cask  of  ale. 

The  estimation  in  which  Welsh  ale  was  looked  upon  is  shown 
by  a  grant  of  some  abbey  lands  by  the  Abbot  of  Peterborough, 
in  the  year  852,  under  reservation  of  ceruin  paymenu  in  kind,  as 
specified.  "One  night's  entertainment,  ten  vessels  of  Welch, 
and  two  of  common  ale,  sixty  cart  loads  of  wood,  and  twelve  of 

202 


468  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

pit  coal."     Showing  that  coal  began  to  be  had  as  fiiel  at  an  early 
date,  though  not  generally.     Wallice  gives  the  lists  of  the  sixteen 
great  officers  of  the  Court  of  a  King  of  Wales,  and  their  respec- 
tive ranks,     i  •  The  Mayor  of  the  Palace,  who  was  also  General 
of  the  Army.     2.  The  Priest  of  the  Household,  who  sat  at  the 
Royal  table,  to  bless  the  meat  and  chant  the  Lord's  Prayer. 
3.  The  Steward,  one  of  whose  perquisites  was  as  much  of  every 
cask  of  plain  ale  as  he  can  reach  with  his  middle  finger  dipped 
into  it,  and  at  much  of  every  cask  of  ale  with  spiceries  as  he  can 
reach  with  the  second  joint  with  his  middle  finger,  and  as  much 
of  every  cask  of  mead  as  he  can  reach  with  the  first  joint  of  the 
same  finger.     4.  The  Master  of  the  Hawks,  who,  among  other 
things,  stipulated  that  he  would  drink  no  more  than  three  ttmea. 
lest  he  should  become  intoxicated  and  neglect  hb  birds.     5.  The 
Judge  of  the  Household,  the  most  indispensable  of  whose  quali- 
fications were  a  learned  education  and  a  long  beard ;  he  presided 
at  the  contests  of  the  poets  and  musicians,  which  were  frequently 
held  before  the  King.     6.  The  Master  of  the  Horse.     7.  The 
Chamberlain,  one  of  whose  obligations  was  to  provide  clean  straw 
and  rushes  for  the  King's  bed.     8.  The  Chief  Musician  or 
Bard.     This  officer  was  highly  esteemed,  and  sat  at  the  King's 
table.     9.  The  Silentiary,  whose  duty  it  was  to  preserve  order 
when  the  King  took  his  seat — "  Gentlemen,  pray^  silence  for  the 
Chair."     la  The  Master  of  the  Horse,  who  was  not  required  to 
take  an  oath  in  the  ordinary  way,  but  to  swear  by  his  horses  and 
dogs.     1 1  •  The  Mead  Maker,  who  would  presumably  be  the 
Brewer  as  well     1 2.  The  Physician,  whose  fee  for  curing  slight 
wounds  were  the  garments  that  had   been  stained  with   blood. 
1 3,  The  Buder.     1 4.  The  Porter,  who  combined  the  duties  of 
Gentleman   Usher  to  the  King,  and  was  entitled  at  all   great 
festivals  to  three  horns  fiill  of  a  certain  liquor  called  the  **  Twelve 
Aposdes."     I  J.  The  Master  Cook. 

This  shows  that  beer  and  poetry  ranked  equally  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  Ancient  Cymry,  and  the  bards  tuned  their  harps  and 
sang  the  praises  of  ale  in  solo  and  in  chorus : — 

«*  A  word  in  praise  of  our  Welse  drink. 
And  yet  for  aull  that  is  a  cup  of  Bragaty 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  469 

Aull  EnglaDd's  aeer  may  cast  his  cup  at. 
And  what  say  you  to  the  ale  of  Webly, 
Toudge  him  well,  you'll  praise  him  trebly, 
As  well  as  Methylin,  or  Syder,  or  Meath, 
Sail  sake  it  your  dagger  quite  out  of  the  seath. 

And  oat  cake  of  Guarthenian, 

With  a  goodly  leek  or  onion. 

To  gi?e  it  as  sweet  a  relis^ 

As  e*er  did  Harper  Ellis." 

In  the  pro?erbs  of  Hendyng,  who  wrote  about  the  end  of  the 
1 3th  century,  he  inculcates  the  duty  of  hospitality. 

Hast  of  bread  and  ale  no  lack. 
Put  not  all  in  thine  own  sack. 

But  scatter  some  about. 
Art  thou  free  with  thine  own  meals. 
Where  another  his  meat  deals 

Go'st  thou  not  without 
**  Better  apple  gi'en  nor  eaten ;" 
Quoth  Hendyng. 

Yef  thou  ha?est  bred  ant  ale, 
Ne  put  thou  nout  al  in  thy  male. 

Thou  del  it  sum  aboute. 
Be  thou  fre  of  thy  meeles, 
Wher  so  roe  eny  mete  deles, 

Gest  thou  nout  withoute. 
«*  Betere  is  appel  y-geve  then  y-ctc;" 
Quoth  Hendyng. 

Knowing  how  thoroughly  poetic  the  Welsh  nation  are,  and  the 
plaintive  nature  of  their  music,  I  have  been  greatly  disappointed 
in  finding  so  few  of  their  songs  and  ballads  translated  into 
English.  Even  the  few  we  have  lack  the  spirit  of  the  originals. 
In  some  respects,  perhaps,  the  language  does  not  lend  itself  to 
translation ;  a  few  words  like  the  following  would  be  what  Dick 
Swiveller  would  call  a  **  suggerer  ** — **  Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgog- 
erych  wy  mdrobwl  Igertrobwllylandysiliogogogoch. " 


470  in  Praise  of  Ale. 

Then  again,  the  particular  kind  of  metre  known  as  the  Englyn 
is  only  adapted  for  declamation,  and  not  for  song.  I  can  but 
regret  that  so  much  good  poetry  as  the  Welsh  possess  should  lie 
buried  in  the  language,  and  so  utterly  lost  to  the  outside  world, 
and  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  National  Eisteddfod  Associa- 
tion would  do  better  if  they  would  arrange  to  issue  some  really 
good  and  worthy  renderings  of  their  old  Bardic  lays  and  traditions. 
There  is  a  wealth  of  material.  George  Borrow  did  something 
in  that  way. 

lolo  Goch,  or  Red  Julius,  the  bard  of  Owen  Glendower, 
records  the  glories  of  his  patron's  mansion,  and  above  all,  his 
unbounded  hospitality  :— 

*^  What  luxury  doth  his  hall  adorn. 
Showing  of  cost  a  sovereign  scorn ! 
His  ale  from  Shrewsbury  town  he  brings ; 
His  usquebaugh  is  drink  for  kings. 
Bragget  he  keeps,  bread  white  of  look. 
And,  bless  the  mark,  a  bustling  cook. 
His  mansion  is  the  minstrel's  home, 
You'll  find  them  there  whene'er  you  come. 
Of  all  her  sex  his  wife's  the  best. 
The  household  through  her  care  is  blest ; 
She's  scion  of  a  knightly  tree. 
She's  dignified,  she's  kind  and  free. 
His  bairns  approach  me,  pair  by  pair, 
O  what  a  nest  of  chieftains  kiw  ! 
How  difficult  it  is  to  catch 
A  sight  of  either  bolt  or  latch  ; 
The  porter's  place  here  none  will  fill ; 
Here  largess  shall  be  lavish'd  still. 
And  ne'er  shall  thirst  or  hunger  rude 
In  Sycharth  venture  to  intrude." 

lolo  composed  the  ode  of  which  the  foregoing  is  an  extract, 
when  he  was  over  lOO  years  old,  and  he  lived  himself  to  be  over 
il8  3rears,  so  that  the  air  and  ale  of  Wales  agreed  with  him. 
His  patron  was  not  so  long  lived ;  he  died  at  the  age  of  67. 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  47  r 

^  One  thousand  four  hundred,  no  less  and  no  more, 
Was  the  date  of  the  rising  of  Owen  Glendower  ; 
Till  fifteen  were  added,  with  courage  ne*er  cold 
Li?'d  Owen,  though  latterly  Owen  was  old." 


^  In  Cambria  we  are  bom,  and  gentlemen  : 
Further  to  boast  were  neither  true  nor  modest, 
Unless  I  add  that  we  are  honest." 

The  code  of  honour  is  strict  but  patriotic : — 

"  Three  things  should  a  Cumro  always  bear  in  mind  lest  he 
dishonour  them  :  his  father,  his  country,  and  his  name  of  Cumro. 

**  There  are  three  things  for  which  a  Cumro  should  be  willing 
to  die :  his  country,  his  good  name,  and  the  truth  whererer  it  be. 

** Three  things  are  highly  disgraceful  to  a  Cumro:  to  look 
with  one  eye,  to  listen  with  one  ear,  and  to  defend  with  one 
hand. 

*'  Three  things  it  especially  beho?es  a  Cumro  to  choose  from 
his  own  country :  his  king,  his  wife,  and  his  friend." 

In  the  poem  of  the  "Sleeping  Bard,"  by  £lis  Wyn,  trans- 
lated by  George  Borrow,  we  ha?e  a  pretty  full  account  of 
a  drinking  match.  "  From  thence  we  went  to  a  place 
where  we  heard  a  terrible  noise,  a  medley  of  striking,  jabber- 
ing, crying  and  laughing,  shouting  and  singing.  *  Here's 
Bedlam,  doubtless,'  said  I.  By  the  time  we  entered  the 
den  the  brawling  had  ceased.  Of  the  company,  one  was  on 
the  ground  insensible ;  another  was  in  a  yet  more  deplorable  con- 
dition ;  another  was  nodding  over  a  hearthful  of  battered  pots, 
pieces  of  pipes,  and  oozings  of  ale.  And  what  was  all  this,  upon 
enquiry,  but  a  carousal  of  seven  thirsty  neighbours, — a  goldsmith, 
a  pilot,  a  smith,  a  miner,  a  chimney-sweeper,  a  poet,  and  a  parson 
who  had  come  to  preach  sobriety,  and  to  exhibit  in  himself  what 
a  disgusting  thing  drunkenness  is !  The  origin  of  the  last  squabble 
was  a  dispute  which  had  arisen  anx>ng  them  about  which  of  the 
seven  loved  a  pipe  and  flagon  best.  The  poet  had  carried  the 
day  over  all  the  rest,  with  the  exception  of  the  parson,  who,  out 


47  2  In  Praiie  of  Ale, 

of  re^)ect  for  his  cloth,  had  the  most  votes,  being  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  jolly  companions,  the  poet  singing : — 

*  O  where  are  there  seven  beneath  the  sky 
Who  with  these  seven  for  thirst  can  vie  ? 
But  the  best  for  good  ale  these  seven  among 
Are  the  jolly  divine  and  the  son  of  song.'  " 

The  company  were  certainly  a  little  mixed,  and  a  big  drunk 
resulted,  besides,  the  Welsh  ale  is  strong.  It  used  to  be  well 
known  in  London,  where  the  windows  of  the  houses  were  adorned 
with  pictures  of  Welsh  women  in  their  native  custom ;  and  the 
men  of  Wales  met  in  a  far-off  city,  and  wished  themselves 
back  again. 

The  only  dialect  song  I  can  give  is  one  in  praise  of  the  brewer 
rather  than  his  brewage,  and  this  will  give  my  readers  an  idea  of 
the  difficulties  I  have  pointed  out  in  the  way  of  translation — 

I'r  Rhaglywydd,  Dafydd  Williams,  Ysw., 

The  Taff  Vale  Brewery. 

By  Nathan  Dyfed. 

Cymro  gwiw  eowog  o  anian — haelwech, 
Yw  Williams,  Lyw  diddan, 
Dawn  a  chof  gwydn,  a  chyfan, 
O  hil  glwys,  Bencenedl  glan. 

£in  D3rn,  oil  yw,  dawn  alluawg — uchel 
Fasnachydd  toreithiawg — 
Haelionus  iV  rheidus  yr  hawg 
Yw  bri  ei  glod — bor  goludawg. 

Rhodio'n  neflon  ei  Hyna6aid — y  mae 
Mewn  hoffswyn  bendigaid, 
Fel  iawn  Arwr  ei  flaenoriaid 
Ym  Mynyw,  a  grym  Huein  graid. 

Onid  yw  swn  enw  "  Dewi  Sant " — iddo 
'N  fbddus,  fel  adgofiant, 
A  hofflith,  am  Ddjrfed,  a'i  phlant — sorchawg, 
Ei  daiar«  a'i  gwenawg  der  ogoniant  ? 


Local  and  Dialect  Songs.  473 

Oes  o  Iwydd  gwir  sylweddol — a  gaflo 
'N  deg  eflfaitb  haofbdol — 
A  Gwynfa'n  ei  ran,  ar  ol, 
Yd  gu  haddef  dragwyddol. 

The  following  is  a  literal  rendering  and  alio  a  prose  paeao  in 
honour  of  David  Wiluams  of  the  Taff  Vale  Brewery : — 

**  Williams,  our  jovial  ruler,  is  a  naost  worthy  Welshman ;  fam- 
ous for  his  liberality,  gifted  with  strong  parts,  a  virtuous  chief  of 
a  venerable  race. 

A  man  of  thorough  abilities,  a  merchant  of  probity  and  fruitful 
resources,  his  fair  fame  having  but  one  fault — ^his  extreme  genero- 
sity to  the  necessitous. 

He  follows  in  the  footsteps  of  his  ancestors — the  delightfully 
charmed  existence  of  a  worthy  representative  of  his  predecessors 
at  St  David's. 

Is  there  not  to  him  a  charmed  recollection  in  the  sound  of  St 
David's  name ;  the  fond  story  of  Demetia,  her  beloved  children, 
her  soil,  acd  her  radiant  glory  ? 

May  his  be  a  life  of  unqualified  success,  and,  hereafter,  may 
Paradise  be  his  everlasting  home." 

Here  is  an  obit  of  a  Welsh  gentleman  who  loved  his  ale — 

^  November  30,  1 793,  died  at  Beaumaris,  William  Lewis, 
Esq.,  of  Llandisman,  in  the  act  of  drinking  a  cup  of  Welsh  ale, 
containing  about  a  wine  quart,  called  a  tumbler  maur.  He  made 
it  a  rule,  every  nnoming  of  his  lifi^,  to  read  so  many  chapters  in 
the  Bible,  and  in  the  evening  to  drink  eight  gallons  of  ale.  It  is 
calculated  that  in  his  lifetime  he  roust  have  drunk  a  sufficient 
quantity  to  float  a  seventy-four  gun  ship.  His  size  was  astonish- 
ing, and  he  weighed  forty  stone.  Although  he  died  b  his  par« 
lour,  it  was  found  necessary  to  construct  a  nuichine  in  form  of  a 
crane,  to  lift  his  body  on  a  carriage,  and  afterwards  to  have  the 
machine  in  a  churchyard  to  let  him  down  into  the  grave.  He 
went  by  the  name  of  the  King  of  Spain,  and  his  family  by  the 
different  titles  of  prince,  infanta,  Sec." 


474  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

I  hoped  at  one  time  to  have  been  able  to  have  secured  some 
Irish  beer  songs,  but  found  that  such  a  chapter  would  very  much 
resemble  that  on  snakes  in  Iceland — there  are  none.  Moore  wrote 
some  charming  Anacreontics  in  praise  of  drink  and  the  Cruishkcen 
Lawn,  and  the  poets  have  sung  the  glories  of  potheen,  but  none 
have  sung  the  praises  of  ale  in  the  rich  and  racy  Milesian  brogue. 


I  have  alluded  to  the  energy  with  which  the  Dorsetshire 
Brewers  are  reviving  the  glories  of  the  erstwhile  famous  ale.  I 
regret  to  learn  from  the  Morning  Post  of  October  4th,  1877, 
that  there  is  a  sad  falling  off  in  the  neighbouring  county 
of  Zummerzet,  both  in  their  beer  and  cheese. 

**  This,"  says  the  Post,  ^  is  an  unpalauble  truth  to  those  men 
who  are  the  true  descendants  of  the  men  of  whom  old  Fuller  wrote, 
and  who  boasted  in  his  days  that  their  pastures  were  so  fruitful 
*  with  the  zun  and  zoil  alone,  that  they  needed  no  manuring,'  and 
who  were  themselves  *  so  highly  conceited  that  they  conceived  it  a 
disparagement  to  be  bom  in  any  other  place/  The  cheese,  ale, 
and  broadcloth  of  Somerset  have  had  a  noble  history,  and  one  of 
which  its  men  may  well  and  justly  be  proud,  but  foreign  com- 
petition is  proving  an  insidious  foe  to  all.  One  of  the  largest — 
if  not  the  largest — brewery  in  the  county  is  one  where  light 
Anglo-Bavarian  ales  are  sent  out, — stuff  at  which  the  stolid  men 
of  old  Fuller's  times  would  have  turned  up  their  noses,  but  which 
is  much  relished  in  these  days  of  more  active  brainwork  and 
rapid  progress.  Where  also  is  the  famous  broadcloth  of  the 
county — thick,  board-like,  firm,  and  ever-wearing  ?  About  two 
miles  from  the  town  of  Frome,  and  covering  some  acres  of  land, 
are  the  ruins  of  a  ^ctory  which  fifteen  years  ago  was  employing 
something  like  four  hundred  hands.  A  Somersetshire  man  would 
swear  by  the  cloth  turned  out  from  this  factory.  But  it  was  too 
good  for  this  generation,  and  except  occasionally,  people  would 
not  buy  a  suit  of  clothes  of  a  quality  to  last  them  for  ten  or  fifteen 
years,  or  as  in  the  case  of  the  broadcloth  Sunday  suit,  for  a  life- 
time. The  dismantled  factory  and  echoing  ruins  are  now  as  much 
a  memorial  of  a  past  time  as  is  the  finest  ruin  of  a  Norman  Castle. 


475 


CHAPTEa    XIII. 

TRADE  SONGS. 

^  Beer^  haffy  produce  of  our  Ule^ 
Can  sinewy  strength  imparl^ 
Andy  wearied  with  fatigue  and  toU^ 
Can  cheer  each  manly  heart,** 

Most  of  the  trades  have  some  songs  intended  to  be  sung  on  con- 
viral  occasions.  I  can  only  give  a  few  of  these,  but  they  each 
have  a  distinctive  character.  Charles  Dibden's  song  of  ^  The 
Thrasher"  is  one  of  the  best;  it  appears  in  the  ^Melodist "  for 
1817.  The  song  survives,  tliough  the  thrasher  with  his  flail  is 
almost  as  extinct  as  a  dodo. 

The  Tioasher. 
By  Charles  Dibden. 

Can  any  king  be  half  so  great, 

So  kind,  so  good  as  I? 
I  give  the  hungry  food  to  eat, 

And  liquor  to  the  dry. 
My  labour's  hard;  but  still  'tis  sweet. 

And  easy  to  endure ; 
For,  while  I  toil  to  thrash  the  wheat, 
I  comfort  rich  and  poor. 
And  I  merrily  sing,  as  I  swing  round  the  flail. 
My  reward,  when  work's  over,  a  jug  of  brown  ale. 

If  from  wheat  the  bread  is  bom. 

Our  miseries  to  cheer, 
*Tis  merry  Sir  John  Bariey-com, 

Supplies  us  with  the  beer; 


476  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Besides,  while  thus  I  thrash  the  corn, 

Our  pleasures  to  ensure, 
I  for  my  neighbours'  good  was  bom, 
A  baker  and  a  brewer ; 
For  I  bake,  and  I  brew,  and  I  swing  round  my  flail, 
To  provide  them  with  bread  and  a  mug  of  brown  ale. 

Tis  for  myself,  when  all  is  said, 

I  work  thus  with  such  glee; 
Then,  if  for  others  I  make  bread. 

My  labour's  bread  to  me. 
For  other  mouths  I  must  provide. 

My  children  must  be  fed ; 
My  wife,  and  some  sick  friend  beside, 

Who  cannot  earn  his  bread : 
With  these  notions  I  merrily  swing  round  my  flail, 
My  reward,  when  work's  over,  a  mug  of  brown  ale. 

And  when  my  mortal  race  near  run, 

All  toil  and  labour  vain, 
A  jolly  thrasher,  shall  my  son 

His  crazy  dad  maintain. 
Thus  will  I  work,  and  laugh,  and  sing, 

And  at  my  thrashing  toil; 
Unless  I'm  called  on  by  my  king 

To  guard  my  native  soil: 
then,  accustomed  to  thrashing,  I'll  swing  round  the  flail, 
And  thrash  the  proud  foe,  to  secure  my  brown  ale. 


Roger  Ruff,  the  Ploughman  :  on,  A  Drop  of  Good  Beer. 

1. 

I'm  Roger  Ruff  the  ploughman, 

A  ploughman's  son  am  I ; 
And  like  my  thirsty  feyther. 

My  throttle's  always  dry. 


Trade  Songs.  477 

Tho'  the  world  goes  wrong,  to  me  'tis  right, 

What  needs  I  interfere, 
I  sings  and  works  from  mom  tiJl  night. 

And  then  I  drinks  my  beer. 
Chorus. — For  I  likes  a  drop  of  good  beer,  I  does, 
Tm  fond  of  a  drop  of  good  beer,  I  is. 
Let  gentlemen  fine  sit  down  to  their  wine. 
But  I  shall  stick  to  my  beer. 

11. 

There's  Sally,  that's  my  wife,  sirs. 

Likes  beer  as  well  as  me. 
And  seems  as  happy  in  life,  sirs. 
As  woman  could  wish  to  be. 
She  minds  her  home,  ukes  care  o'  the  bairns. 

No  gossiping  neighbours  near; 
And  ever  as  Saturday  night  comes  round. 

Like  me  she  drinks  her  beer. 
Chorut. — For  Sally  likes  a  drop  of  good  beer,  she  does. 
She's  fond  of  a  drop  of  good  beer,  she  is. 
Let  gentlemen  fine  sit  down  to  their  wine, 
But  Sally  likes  her  beer. 

III. 

And  there's  my  dad,  God  bless  him, 

Tho*  now  turned  eighty-five  ; 
Hard  work  could  ne'er  distress  him, 

He's  the  happiest  man  alive. 
Tho'  old  in  age,  he's  young  in  health, 

His  heart  and  head  both  clear ; 
Possessed  of  these,  he  needs  no  wealth. 

But  still  he  likes  his  beer. 
Cbanu. — My  feyther  likes  his  beer,  he  does. 

He's  fond  of  a  drop  of  good  beer,  he  is. 
Let  gentlemen  fine  sit  down  to  their  wine, 
But  feyther  likes  his  beer. 


478  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

IV. 

So  lads  need  no  persuasion, 

But  send  your  glasses  round ; 
We'll  never  fear  invasion. 

While  barley  grows  i'th'  ground ; 
May  discord  cease,  and  trade  increase, 

With  every  coming  year ; 
With  plenty  crown'd,  content,  and  peace, 

We'll  sing  and  drink  our  beer. 
Chonu, — For  we  likes  a  drop  of  good  beer,  we  does. 
We  be  fond  of  a  drop  of  good  beer,  we  is. 
Let  gentlemen  6ne  sit  down  to  their  wine. 
But  we  shall  stick  to  our  beer. 

The  cooper's  song,  by  R.  Glindon,  not  only  points  morals, 
but  could,  in  the  hands  of  a  skilful  novelist,  be  made  to  adorn 
tales: — 

The  Cooper. 
y^r — **  Over  the  Water  to  Charlie." 

A  comical  thought  popped  into  my  head, 

This  morning  as  day  was  just  peeping, 

1  might  have  been  dreaming,  for  I  was  in  bed, 

But  I  do  not  believe  I  was  sleeping. 

I  thought  that  the  world  was  a  cooperage  large 

And  compared  (tho'  perhaps  it  surprises), 

^ffankind  (if  I  rightly  my  memory  charge). 

To  barrels  and  cash  of  all  sizes. 

Cborus. 

Then  listen  this  time  to  my  comical  rhyme, 
Push  the  iilderiin  merry  as  troopers 
While  I  show  short  and  tall,  earth's  a  coopnrage  all. 
And  numkind  they  are  all  of  'em  coofers. 


Trade  Songs.  4; 

The  rich  Svmg  aldemum  burly  and  fat 

(1  work,  every  cranny  and  (]uirk  io) 

jiddi  one  CO  the  number,  for  he'i  ■  vol 

With  two  legs,  each  a  fioe  butter j&in; 

The  dnmkard  you'll  God  a  fine  bull  for  a  joke, 

fVill-iraiamd — I'll  give  him  a  rath  rub, 

With  a  well  burnt  iiuiJt,  he's  a  barrri  ef  tmoke. 

And  pitchea  hiaJ  Gm  in  Death' i  mMi-lut. 

Then  litten,  Stc. 

1*11  prove  to  a  titde  the  child  altho'  little, 
A  cooper  (don't  think  my  mnte  drooping). 
The  iaiy  don't  acofT,  when  it  catche*  a  cough, 
The  firtt  thing  it  doea  it  goea  boefing, 
Tho'  daddy  mayhap,  a  large  ipoonfiil  or  pap, 
Down  it*  throat  in  a  huny  doea  chuck  it ; 
Mammy'a  feara  do  prevail,  and  ahe  quickly  taniMfaU, 
Leit  the  in&nt  perchance  kick  the  tticiei. 

Then  liaten,  &c. 

If  it  wan't  for  cafere  we  couldn't  exlat. 

Nor  enjoy  our  roa«  beef,  greena  and  gravy. 

If  no  cooper  would  vteri,  good-bye  barrelled  pork. 

And  salt  beef  for  the  army  and  navy. 

Old  John  Barleycorn  farced  to  draw  in  bii  horn, 

Ma/l  aaJ hope  too  (I'm  no  idle  ulker). 

Would  be  brought  to  their  hier  ihouM  no  barreli  appear. 

That  would  give  brother  buagt  each  a  corker. 

'nwn  liiten,  &c. 

Ne'er  may  covert'  work  ceaae,  but  barreli  increaae, 

And  cooperi  good  order*  (till  win  'em, 

England  boaat  of  rich  crop*,  good  malt,  and  fine  hop! 

To  fiimiah  good  ttutT  to  put  m  'em. 

E'er  I  Gniih  my  iiave,  a  word  more  I  would  have. 

May  the  man  miu  hia  breakbtt  and  luncheon. 

Who  would  injure  the  trade,  and  lome  coopering  blade. 

Some  day  give  his  iegjieaJ  a  punebeom. 

Then  liuen,  &c. 


480  In  Fraise  of  Ale. 

The  Teetotal  chaps,  don't  value  good  schnapps^ 

Nor  your  nindlets  of  rum  of  Nant%ee^ 

No  barrel  nor  butt^  do  they  value  a  jot. 

But  a  waier-'hutt^  that's  all  they  fancy. 

Yet  the  coopering  blade,  can  dispense  with  their  aid 

And  enjoy  each  his  pipe  in  foul  weather. 

They  have  found  out  at  length  that  unity^s  strength. 

Like  the  Jta%}es  the  hoop  hinds  Jirm  together. 

Then  listen,  &c. 

Thrashers  and  agricultural  labourers  were  not  the  only  class  of 
people  who  enjoyed  good  "yel."  Prynne,  in  his  "Histrio 
Mastix/'  gives  the  foUowing: — 

The  Player's  Song. 

The  nut*brown  ale,  the  nut-brown  ale, 
Puts  down  all  drinke  when  it  is  stale. 
The  toast,  the  nutmeg,  and  the  ginger. 
Will  make  the  sighing  man  a  singer. 

Ale  gives  a  buffet  in  the  head, 

But  ginger  under  proppes  the  brayne ; 

When  ale  would  strike  a  strong  man  dead. 
Then  nutmegge  tempers  it  againe. 

The  nut-brown  ale,  the  nut-brown  ale. 
Puts  downe  all  drinke  when  it  is  stale. 

It  would  be  as  well  if  every  domestic  squabble  could  be  settled 
as  easily  as  those  which  occurred  between  Joe  the  miller  and  his 
wife.  The  song  is  not  over-refined,  but  the  sentiment  is  all 
right 

The  Miller  and  his  Wife. 

Poor  Joe,  the  miller,  loved  good  ale, 

And  oft  would  spend  his  bob — 
His  wife,  poor  soul,  would  ofttimes  rail, 

And  swear  she'd  break  his  nob; 


Trade  Songs.  48 1 

They'd  G{ht  and  quarrel — nuke  it  np. 

Each  Towed  they'd  look  it  OTer, 
They  d  kin  and  lup,  aod  take  their  cup, 
Aod  then  to  bed  in  clover. 

Tol  de  rol. 
He  ne'er  would  littea  to  advice 

That  hii  poor  wife  did  give  himi 
Nor  nothing  e'er  would  him  mifice. 

Like  to  the  yoji  of  drinking ) 
One  night  he  brought  home  pota  of  ale, 

And  made  hia  wife  well  fiiddled, 
They  Idaaed  and  hugged — no  ipoute  did  rail, 
fiut  went  to  bed  and  cuddled. 

Tol  de  rol 
And  when  the  roiy  mom  appeared. 

They  went  to  woik  together, 
And  laughed  and  joked  'till  it  came  night, 

With  heart*  a*  light  aa  feather; 
They  then  would  both  together  tup, 

Together  they  would  muddle, 
Aod,  drunk  aa  lowa,  they'd  leave  their  cap, 
And  reeled  to  bed  and  cuddle. 

Tol  de  rol. 
Military  men  have  alway*  been  noted  for  their  love  of  good 
liquor. 

"Then  let  me  the  cannikin  clink,  dink. 
Then  let  me  the  cannikin  clink, 
A  •oldier'i  >  man,  and  life't  but  a  ipan, 
Why  then  let  1  aoldier  drink." 
Jaroe*  Grant,  in  his  hiatory  of  Arthur  Blaine,  ahowa  bow  the 
hero  made  matten  pleatant,  when  be  had  been  taken  a  priaooer  of 
war  in  Alnce.     "  At  a  wayiide  beer-honae  I  entertuoed  him 
and  the  musketeen  of  ray  escort  with  cant  of  beer  each  ;  an  aa 
of  attention  which  won  me  their  enure  good-will.     The  aergeant 
drank  to  my  health  and  better  fortunes,  aa  be  raised  the  huge 
tankard  to   hia  lipa  and  held   it  there,  with   the   cheek^latea 


482  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

of  his  morion  and  his  long  bushy  moustaches  dipjnng  in   the 
frothy  till  the  contents  were  drained  to  the  bottom." 

The  Miutary  Toper. 
From  "  The  British  Orpheus." 

How  stands  the  glass  around  ? 

For  shame,  ye  take  no  care,  my  boys; 
How  stands  the  glass  around  ? 
Let  mirth  and  wine  abound. 
The  trumpets  sound: 

The  colours  flying  are,  my  boys, 
To  fight,  kill,  or  wound; 
May  we  still  be  found 
Content  with  our  hard  fare,  my  boys. 
On  the  cold  ground. 

Why,  soldiers,  why. 

Should  we  be  melancholy,  boys ! 
Why,  soldiers,  why. 

Whose  business  'tis  to  die  ? 
What!  sighing?  fie! 

Damn  fear,  drink  on,  be  jolly,  boys ! 
Tis  he,  you,  and  I. 
Cold,  hot,  wet,  or  dry, 
We're  always  bound  to  follow,  boys. 
And  scorn  to  fly. 

'Tis  but  in  vain, 

^I  mean  not  to  upbraid  you,  boys), 
Tis  but  in  vain. 

For  soldiers  to  complain  : 
Should  next  campaign 

Send  us  to  him  that  made  you,  boys, 
We're  free  from  pain ; 
But  should  we  remain, 
A  botde  and  kind  landlady. 
Cures  all  pain. 


Trade  Songs.  483 

The  hero  of  the  nibjomed  tragedy  would  hare  been  happy 
with  his  **  iU4>py  **  had  he  kept  out  of  love* 

The  Cobblbr. 

A  cobbler  there  was,  and  he  li^'d  in  a  stall, 
Which  senr'd  him  for  parlour,  for  kitchen,  and  hall; 
No  coin  in  his  pocket,  nor  care  in  his  pate^ 
No  ambition  had  he,  nor  no  duns  at  his  gate* 
Deny  down,  down,  down,  deny  down. 

Contented  he  work'd,  and  he  thought  himself  h^py, 
If  at  night  he  could  purchase  a  cup  of  brown  nappy; 
He'd  laugh  then  and  whistle,  and  sing  too  roost  sweet. 
Saying,  just  to  a  hair  IVe  made  both  ends  meet. 

Deny  down,  &c 

But  loTe,  the  disturber  of  high  and  of  low, 
That  shoots  at  the  peasant  as  well  as  the  beau. 
He  shot  the  poor  cobbler  quite  thro'  the  heart, 
I  wish  it  had  hit  some  more  ignoble  part. 

Deny  down,  &c. 

It  was  from  a  cellar  this  archer  did  play. 
Where  a  buxom  young  damsel  continually  lay. 
Her  eyes  shone  so  bright  when  she  rose  every  day, 
That  she  shot  the  poor  cobbler  straight  over  the  way. 

Deny  down,  &c. 

He  sung  her  love-songs  as  he  sat  at  his  work, 
But  she  was  as  hard  as  a  Jev  or  a  Turi: 
Whenever  he  spoke,  she  would  flounce  and  would  tear. 
Which  put  the  poor  cobbler  quite  into  deqxur. 

Deny  down.  Sec. 

He  took  up  his  awl,  that  he  had  in  the  world. 
And  to  make  away  with  himself  was  resolved, 
He  pierc'd  through  his  body  instead  of  the  sole : 
So  the  cobbler  he  died,  and  the  bell  it  did  toll. 

Deny  down,  &c. 

2  H  2 


484  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Here  is  a  three-roan-song  not  quite  to  doleful  as  the  foregoing, 
from  ''The  Shoemaker's  Holiday,"  1600. 

Cold's  the  wind,  and  wet's  the  rain, 

Saint  Hugh  be  our  good  speed : 
111  is  the  weather  that  bringeth  no  gain, 

Nor  helps  good  hearts  in  need. 

Trow!  the  bowl,  the  jolly  nut-brown  bowl, 

And  here,  kind  mate,  to  thee. 
Let's  sing  a  dirge  for  Saint  Hugh's  soul, 

And  down  it  merrily. 

Down  a  down,  hey  down  a  down. 

Hey  deny,  deny,  down  a  down. 
Ho,  well  done,  to  me  let  come. 

Ring  compass  gende  joy. 

Trowl  the  bowl,  the  nut-brown  bowl. 

And  here,  kind  mate,  to  thee,  • 
Let's  smg  a  dirge  for  Saint  Hugh's  soul. 

And  down  it  merrily. 

Cold's  the  wind,  and  wet's  the  rain. 

Saint  Hugh  be  our  good  q)eed ; 
111  is  the  weather  that  bringeth  no  gain, 

Nor  helps  good  hearts  in  need. 

Tinkers  have  always  been  famous  drinkers  and  fitting  members 
of  the  jovial  crew. 

**  His  pot  and  his  tost  in  the  morning  he  takes. 
And  all  the  day  long  good  music  he  makes ; 
He  wanders  up  and  down,  to  wakes  and  to  fairs, 
He  casts  his  cap,  he  casts  his  cap  at  the  Court  and  its  cares." 

The  next  is  a  part  song  from  Hilton's  ''  Catch  as  Catch  Can." 
By  Waiiam  ChUd.     1652. 

The  Tinker's  Song. 
Now  God  be  with  old  Simeon, 
For  he  made  cans  for  many  an  one, 


7rade  Songs.  485 

And  a  good  old  man  was  he ; 

And  Jinkin  was  his  journeyman, 

And  he  could  tipple  off  every  can ; 

And  thus  he  said  to  me, 

To  whom  drink  you  ? 

Sir  Knafty  to  you. 

Then  hey  ho»  jolly  Jinkin, 

I  spy  a  knave  in  drinking, 

Come  trole  the  bole  to  mee. 

Now  God  be  with  old  Simeon,  &c«,  &c« 

In  the  old  ballad  of  Michaelmas  term,  1655,  the  following 
stanza  occurs : — 

The  jovial  watermen  trim  up  their  botes. 
And  to  be  more  pliant  in  plying  their  hit$ 
With  strong  beer  and  ale  they  do  licker  their  throats, 
For  which  they  wil  wander  to  the  ale-house  by  pairs. 
And,  if  the  frost  do  not  their  labour  prevent, 
Abundance  of  money  they  daily  will  earn, 
Which  in  the  vacation  will  freely  be  spent, 
And  then  they  will  think  upon  Michaelmas  term. 

There  is  not  much  morality  in  the  annexed  beggar's  song, 
which  appeared  first  in  '<  The  pythie  and  pleasant  comoedie  of. 
The  Three  Ladies  of  London,"  black  letter,  written  by  R.  W., 
1592: — 

To  the  wedding,  to  the  wedding,  to  the  wedding  go  we. 

To  the  wedding  a  begging,  a  begging  all  three. 

Tom  Beggar  shall  brave  it,  and  Willy  will  too, 

Simplicite  shall  knave  it  wherever  we  go ; 

With  lustily  bravado  take  care  that  care  will. 

To  catch  it  and  snatch  it  we  have  the  brave  skill. 

Our  fingers  are  lime  twigges,  and  barbere  we  be. 
To  catch  sheets  from  hedges  most  pleasant  to  see ; 
Then  to  the  ale  wifi*  round  we  set  them  to  sale. 
And  spend  the  money  merrily  upon  her  good  ale. 
To  the  wedding,  to  the  wedding,  to  the  wedding  go  we, 
To  the  wedding  a  begging,  a  begging  all  three. 


486  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Ajient  beggars  and  swashbucklers,  the  Alsadaas,  who  claimed 
sanctuary  in  Whitefriars,  had  a  high  old  time  according  to  Sir  Walter 
Scott  in  "The  Fortunes  of  Nigel."  TheCouncil  of  State  in  Alsatia, 
who  met  under  Duke  Jacob  Hildebitxl  to  transact  the  affairs  of  the 
Conmionwealth,  had  first  the  morning  draught  at  seven  o'clock,  the 
second  for  the  ante-meridian  or  whet,  and  were  so  prodigal  of  the  la- 
bourson  behalf  of  the  State  that  they  seldom  broke  up  before  midnight. 

Benjamin  Suddlechop,  the  barber  of  Alsatia,  must  have  been  a 
usefiil  man.  He  could  on  occasion  draw  a  cup  of  beer  as  well 
as  a  tooth,  tap  a  hogshead  as  well  as  a  vein,  and  wash  with  a 
dranghtof  good  ale  the  mustachioes  which  his  art  had  just  trimmed. 

"  For  he  wasn't  like  one  of  these  dentists  in  town, 
Who  for  drawing  a  grinder  would  charge  you  a  crown. 
But  oh !  if  you'd  only  give  him  the  job. 
He'd  draw  you  all  over  the  shop  for  a  bob." 

Both  the  Alsatians  and — later,  in  the  days  of  the  old  Fleet 
prison — the  Acolytes  had  to  pay  their  footing  according  to  their 
means.  It  were  better  for  the  new-comer  to  do  it  with  a  good 
grace,  like  old  Pickwick  did  in  treating  his  fellow-prisoners, 
and  above  all  the  turnkey,  liberally : — 

And  now,  my  lad,  take  them  five  shilling. 

And  on  my  advice  in  future  think ; 
So  Billy  pouched  them  all  so  willing. 

And  got  that  night  disguised'in  drink. 

The  following  is  the  lament  of  a  by-gone  race  of  pot-boys 
who  in  older  days  cheerily  cried.  Beer  Ho !  and  carried  their 
double  row  of  full  shiny  pots  in  a  three-sided  oblong  box  in  one 
hand,  a  fidl  can  for  replenishing  in  the  other.  The  metre  might 
be  improved,  but  the  sentiment  is  all  right. 

The  Pot-Boy  Job. 

Oh  dear,  what  a  change  has  seen  this  nation. 
It's  enough  to  fill  one  with  vexation. 

There's  nought  for  me  but  sorrow  and  woe. 
So  hear  the  complaint  of  the  Pot-Boy  Joe. 

Cbonu — Hear  the  lament  of  Pot-Boy  Joe, 
Hear  the  lament  of  Pot-Boy  Joe. 


Trade  Songs.  487 

Once  on  a  time  in  a  public  house, 

A  man  could  sit  down  at  snug  as  a  mouse, 

But  now  they're  all  gin-palaces,  and  if  tir'd  you  are, 
You  must  rest  on  a  dirty  tub  in  front  of  the  bar. 

Hear,  etc. 

Then  if  a  man's  house  is  filled  with  strife. 

And  he  happens  to  have  a  jolly  row  with  his  wife, 

He  could  cut  in  a  tap  room  and  put  his  steak  down. 
And  the  pot-boy  for  cooking  it  got  many  a  brown. 

Hear,  etc. 

But  now  to  keep  the  cold  out  and  from  striking  in. 
They  stand  at  the  bar  and  drink  their  gin. 

The  dustman  with  his  three  ha'porth  must  treat  his  Sally, 
And  the  milkman  must  have  some  cream  of  the  valley. 

Hear,  etc. 

We  once  could  get  good  porter  without  any  chaff. 
But  the  porter  they  sells  now  is  all  half  and  half, 

Porters  won't  drink  ale  but  of  certain  brewin'. 
And  the  police  delight  m  a  dash  of  blue  ruin. 

Hear,  etc. 

At  shove  ha'penny  I  used  to  take  them  in, 

And  at  tiddly- wink  won  lots  of  tin, 
I  could  sport  velveteens,  but  the  thought  now  grieves, 

I'm  forced  to  put  up  with  a  jacket  and  sleeves. 

Hear,  etc. 

Ven  I  gathered  the  pots  in  my  morning  rounds. 
Of  grab  from  the  cooks  I  got  some  pounds. 

But  now  at  the  bar  they  show  their  mugs, 
And  for  cheapness  fetches  in  their  own  jugs. 

Hear,  etc 

Meny  vas  the  girl  that  on  me  vos  dead  nuts. 
But  there's  not  one  now  looks  at  poor  Joe  Buts, 

My  spirits  are  gone,  and  I  drops  a  tear, 

And  in  some  wault  soon  youll  find  my  bier. 

Hear,  etc. 


488  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  Kent  Street  Club  song  indicates  a  re-union  of  the  leading 
tradesmen.  It  is  taken  from  the  songs  of  the  London  Ap- 
prentices. There  is  somewhat  of  a  similarity  between  this  and 
the  Joan's  Ale  series  of  songs. 

The  Good  Fellow's  FaoucKy  or  Kent  Street  Club. 

Here  is  a  crew  of  jovial  blades. 

That  lov'd  the  nut-brown  ale. 
They  in  an  ale-house  chanc'd  to  meet, 

And  told  a  merry  tale. 
A  bonny  seaman  was  the  first. 

But  newly  come  to  town, 
And  swore  that  he  his  guts  would  burst, 

With  ale  that  was  so  brown. 

See  how  the  jolly  carman  he 

Doth  the  strong  liquor  prize, 
He  so  long  in  the  ale-house  sat. 

That  he  drank  out  his  eyes ; 
And  groping  to  get  out  of  door. 

Sot  like,  he  tumbled  down, 
And  there  he  like  a  madman  swore. 

He  lov'd  the  ale  so  brown. 

The  nimble  weaver  he  came  in, 

And  swore  he'd  have  a  little, 
To  drink  good  ale  it  was  no  sin, 

Though't  made  him  pawn  his  shuttle. 
Quoth  he,  I  am  a  gentleman. 

No  lusty  country  clown, 
But  yet  I  love  with  all  my  heart. 

The  ale  that  is  so  brown. 

Then  next  the  blacksmith  he  came  in. 

And  said  "Twas  mighty  hot," 
He  sitting  down  would  thus  begin, 

^  Fair  maid,  bring  me  a  pot ; 


Trade  Smgs.  489 

Let  h  be  of  the  ntj  hem. 

That  none  exceedi  b  town, 
I  tdl  you  true,  and  do  not  jeit, 

I  lore  the  ale  to  browa." 

The  prick  loiue  tailor  he  came  ia, 

WhoM  tongue  did  run  k>  nimble; 
And  nid,  he  would  engage  for  driolc, 

Hb  bodkin  and  hit  thimhle. 
"  For  though  with  long  thin  jaw*  I  look, 

I  value  not  a  crown, 
So  I  can  have  my  belly  fnll 

Of  ale  that  ii  fo  brawn.' 

The  hitty  porter  paMOg  by. 

With  baiket  on  hu  favk. 
He  laid,  that  be  waa  grievous  dry, 

And  need*  would  pawn  hit  tack. 
Hit  angry  wife  he  did  not  fear. 

He  valued  not  her  frown, 
So  be  had  that  he  bv'd  to  dear, 

I  mean  the  ale  »o  brown. 

The  next  that  came  wat  one  of  them, 

Wai  of  the  gende  craft, 
And  when  that  he  wu  wet  within, 

Moit  heartily  be  laugh'd 
Critpin  wai  ne'er  to  boon  at  he, 

Tho'  Bome  kin  to  a  crown  ; 
And  there  he  lat  raott  merrily. 

With  ale  that  waa  to  brown. 

But  at  the  lait  a  barber,  be 

A  mind  had  for  to  tatte. 
He  call^  for  a  pint  of  drink. 

And  taid  be  wat  in  haiCe ; 


490  ^»  Praise  of  Ale. 

The  drink  so  pleased,  he  tarried  there. 

Till  he  had  lost  a  crown, 
Twas  all  the  money  he  could  spare, 

For  ale  that  is  so  brown. 

A  broom  man,  as  he  pass^  by, 

His  morning  draught  did  lack ; 
Becaose  that  he  no  money  had. 

He  pawn'd  his  shirt  from 's  back ; 
And  said  that  he  without  a  shirt. 

Would  cry  brooms  up  and  down ; 
"  But  yet,"  quoth  he,  •*  Til  merry  be. 

With  ale  that  is  so  brown.** 

But  when  all  these  together  met, 

Oh  what  discourse  was  there, — 
'T would  make  one's  hair  to  stand  on  end. 

To  hear  how  they  did  swear ! 
One  was  a  fool  and  puppy  dog. 

The  other  was  a  clown. 
And  there  they  sat  and  swilPd  themselves 

With  ale  that  was  so  brown. 

The  landlady  they  did  abuse. 

And  called  her  nasty  bore  ; 
Quoth  she,  ^  Do  you  your  reckoning  pay, 

And  get  you  out  of  door !  '* 
Of  them  she  could  no  money  get. 

Which  causM  her  to  frown  ; 
But  loath  they  were  to  leave  behind. 

The  ale  that  was  so  brown. 


I  am  indebted  to  the  Atheiunm^  August  2,  1884,  for  the 
following  comments,  which  tend  to  show  that  women  as  well  as 
men  were  given  to  festivity. 

*<  It  is  quite  certain  that  getting  drunk  was  not  in  the  Middle 
Ages  thought  the  disgraceful  thing  that  it  is  accounted  now. 
Women  were  in  the  habit  of  drinking  in  alehouses  and  at  church 


Trade  Songs.  49 1 

ales.  In  a  volume  of  *  Songs  and  Carols '  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
an  unhappy  husband  lamenu  that  if  his  wife 

*  will  to  the  good  ale  ryde 
I  must  trot  all  by  her  side. 
And  when  she  drinks  I  must  abide.' 

And  in  the  romance  of  'Merline*  we  have  an  account  of  a 
young  lady  who  got  drunk  at  the  ale.  In  the  directory  of  good 
manners  entitled  <  How  the  Good  Wife  taught  her  Daughter,* 
the  young  woman  is  told  that 

'  If  thou  be  ofte  dranke  it  putte  thee  to  shame.' 

We  do  not  commend  the  roedixval  habit  of  women  frequenting 
alehouses,  but  have  no  doubt  that  with  our  changed  manners  it 
seems  to  us  much  worse  than  it  was.  In  many  parts  of  the 
*  Continent  women  go  to  the  cafe  without  any  sense  of  its  being 
improper;  we  apprehend  that  the  women  who  went  to  the 
English  alehouse  acted  with  equal  innocence. 

**  Speaking  comparatively,  the  English  were  a  sober  people 
until  the  use  of  spiriu  became  common,  and  then  things  got 
yearly  worse  and  worse  until  a  time  within  human  memory.  At 
first  it  is  almost  certain  that  spirits  were  used  for  their  supposed 
medicinal  qualities.  That  they  were  commonly  uken  for  the 
pleasure  they  gave  before  the  middle  of  the  reign  of  Charies  II. 
is  not  proved.  Aphra  Behn,  though  there  is  little  to  be  said  on 
the  score  of  the  morality  of  her  writings,  is  a  good  authority  as 
to  manners  and  customs.  Any  one  reading  her  plays  for  the 
purpose  of  finding  contributions  to  a  history  of  drink  would  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  ale  and  wine  were  the  drink  of  all  except 
the  very  *  fast '  young  men  about  town.  Lambs- wool  seems  to 
have  been  a  favourite  drink  of  the  middle  and  lower  ranks  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  Mrs  Behn  alludes  to  it  on  several  occa- 
sions.    In  « The  False  Count '  we  read  that 

*  Djring  sacraments  do  less  prevail 
Than  living  ones,  though  took  in  Lambs- wool-ale.'  '* 


492 


CHAPTER   ZI¥. 

OXFORD  SONGS. 

"  In  cMege  you  scorned  the  art  of  thinkings 
But  learrCd  all  moods  and  figures  of  good  drinking  J* 

Dryden. 

Dryden  was  rather  too  hard  on  the  Oxford  students  when  he 
penned  the  above  couplet.  The  Oxford  men,  undergrads 
especially,  can  drink,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  they  can  work;  jtt 
the  old  colleges  have  time  out  of  mind  been  famous  for  the 
high  excellence  of  their  beer,  which  is  in  fact  the  real  tuperna" 
ni/tiffiy  as  the  respective  butlers  of  the  various  colleges  vie  with 
each  other  in  producing  the  best  and  strongest  brew.  With  such 
a  theme  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  many  of  the  odes  in 
praise  of  ale  from  various  pens  are  the  best  and  most  scholarly  in 
the  language.  Brazenose  has  kept  up  the  custom  of  the  Shrove- 
tide beer  oration  ;  and  many  of  the  most  eminent,  Bishop  Heber 
among  others,  wrote  three  of  them  during  his  novitiate.  Many 
of  these  orations  are  too  local  to  be  reprinted  in  extmso^  so  I  will 
only  take  a  few  of  the  best  compositions  of  the  Oxford  scholars. 
The  Butler  of  Brazenose  has  collected  and  re-published  many  of 
these  annual  effusions. 

Perhaps  the  very  best  of  all  is  Thomas  Warton's  panegyric 
on  ale,  written  in  1753. 

"  Mea  nee  Falenus 
Temperant  vites,  neque  Formiani 
Pocula  coUes ." — Horace. 

Balm  of  my  cares,  sweet  solace  of  my  toils, 
Hail,  juice  benignant !     O'er  the  costly  cups 


Oxford  Songs. 

Of  riot-tdrriD{  wine — anwboloonK  draught- 
Let  Pride'i  Ioom  tont  prolong  the  waiteful  night. 
My  sober  etreniog  let  the  tiolurd  blets 
With  tout  imbrown'd  and  fragrant  outineg  fraught, 
While  the  rich  draught — with  oft-repeated  whiRi — 
Tobacco  mild  tinproTet ;  Dirioe  repatt ! 
Where  no  crude  wrfeit  or  intemperate  joys 
Of  lawlew  Bacchus  reigoi:  but  o'er  my  soul 
A  calm  letheao  creeps:  in  drowsy  trance 
Each  thought  subsides,  and  sweet  oblivion  wraps 
My  peaceful  brain,  as  if  the  magic  rod 
Of  leaden  Morpheus  o'er  mine  eyes  had  shed 
lu  opiate  infiuence.     What  tho'  sore  ill* 
Oppress:  dire  want  of  chill-dispelling  coals 
Or  cheerful  candle  ta.it  the  nuke-weight's  gleam 
Haply  remaining :  heart  rejoicing  ale 
Cheer*  the  sad  scene  and  er'ry  want  supplies. 

Meantime,  not  mindless  of  the  doily  task 
Of  tutor  sage,  upon  the  learned  leave* 
Of  deep  Smiglecius  much  I  meditate ; 
While  ale  inipirei,  and  lends  ber  kindred  aid — 
The  thought — perplexing  labour  to  punue. 
Sweet  Helicon  of  logic!     But  if  friends 
Congenial  call  rae  from  the  toilsome  page, 
To  pot-house  I  repair — the  sured  haunt, 
Where,  Ale,  thy  vouries  b  fiiU  resort 
Hold  rites  DOCtumaL     In  capacious  chair 
Of  monumental  oak,  and  antiijuc  mould, 
That  long  has  stood  the  r^  of  conqu'ring  Time 
Inviolate  (not  in  more  ample  seat 
Smoke*  rosy  justice,  when  th'  important  cause — 
Whether  of  henroost  or  of  mirthfiil  rape — 
In  all  the  majesty  of  paunch,  he  tries}, 
Studious  of  ease,  and  provident,  I  place 
My  gladsome  bmbs,  while  In  repeated  round 
Returai  replenish'd  the  n 


494  ^  Prtuse  of  Ale. 

And  the  brisk  fire  conspires  to  genial  joy. 

Nor  seldom  to  relieve  the  ling'ring  hours 

In  innocent  delight  amosive  putt 

On  smooth-joint  stool,  in  emblematic  play 

The  vain  vicissitudes  of  fortune  shews. 

Nor  reck'ning,  name  tremendous,  me  disturbs, 

Nor  called  for  chills  my  head  with  sudden  fear. 

While  in  the  wonted  door  (expressive  mark!) 

The  frequent  penny  stands  described  to  view 

In  snowy  characters,  a  graceful  row. 

Hail  Ticking!  surest  guardian  of  distress, 

Beneath  thy  shelter,  pennyless  I  quaff 

The  cheering  cup.     Tho'  much  the  poet's  friend, 

Ne'er  yet  attempted  m  poetic  strain. 

Accept  this  humble  tribute  of  my  praise. 

Nor  proctor  thrice  with  vocal  heel  alarms 

Our  joys  secure  nor  deigns  the  lowly  roof 

Of  pot-house  snug  to  visit :  wiser  he 

The  splendid  tavern  haunts,  or  coffee-house 

Of  James  or  Juggins,  where  the  grateful  breath 

Of  mild  tobacco  ne'er  diffused  its  balm ; 

But  the  lewd  spendthrift,  ^sely  deem'd  polite. 

While  steams  around  the  fragrant  Indian  bowl, 

Oft  damns  the  vulgar  sons  of  humbler  ale. 

In  vain :  the  proctor's  voice  alarms  their  joy — 

Just  fate  of  wanton  pride  and  vain  excess ! 

Nor  less  by  day  delightful  is  thy  draught. 
Heart-easing  ale,  whose  sorrow-soothing  sweets 
Oft  I  repeat  in  vacant  afternoon. 
When  tatter'd  stockings  ask  my  mending  hand, 
Not  inexperienc'd,  while  the  tedious  toil 
Slides  unregarded.     Let  the  tender  swain 
Each  mom  regale  on  nerve-relaxing  tea — 
Companion  meet  of  langour-loving  nymph : 
Be  mine  each  mom  with  larger  appetite 
And  hunger  undissembled,  to  repair 


Oxford  Songs.  495 

To  frieodly  bott'iyy  there  on  tmokiog  crust 
And  foaming  ale  to  banquet  unrestrained. 
Materia]  breakfast !     Thus  in  ancient  times 
Our  ancestors  robust,  with  liberal  cups 
Usher'd  the  mdrn,  unlike  the  languid  sons 
Of  naodem  days.     Nor  erer  had  the  might 
Of  Britons  brave  decayed,  had  thus  they  fed, 
With  English  ale  improving  English  worth. 
With  ale  irriguous  undismayed  I  hear 
The  frequent  dun  invading  lofty  dome 
Importunate ;  whether  the  plaintive  voice 
Of  laundress  shriU  awake  my  starded  ear. 
Or  taylor  with  obsequious  bow  advance, 
Or  groom  invade  me  with  defying  look 
And  fierce  demeanour,  whose  emaciate  steeds 
Had  panted  oft  beneath  my  goring  steeL 
In  vain  they  plead  or  threat,  all-powerful  ale 
Excuses  new  supplies,'  and  each  descends 
With  joyless  pace  and  debt-despairing  looks: 

E'en  Sp y  with  indignant  bow  retires. 

Sternest  of  duns !  and  conquered  quits  the  field. 

Why  did  the  gods  such  various  blessings  pour 
On  helpless  mortals  from  their  grateful  hands 
So  soon  the  short-liv'd  bounty  to  recall  ? 
Thus,  while  improvident  of  future  ill 
I  quaff  the  luscious  unkard  unrestrain'd, 
And  thoughdess  riot  in  ambrosial  bliss. 
Sudden  (dire  fate  of  all  things  excellent ! ) 
The  unpitying  hand  of  Bursar's  cross-afExing  hand 
Blasts  all  my  joys,  and  stops  my  glad  career. 
Nor  now  the  friendly  pot-house  longer  yields 
A  sure  retreat  when  ev'ning  shades  the  skies. 
Nor  Sheppard,*  ruthless  widow,  now  vouchsafes 
The  wonted  trust,  and  Winter*  ticks  no  more. 


*  Noted  ile-hooaet  of  Oxford 


496  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Thus  AdaiDy  exil'd  from  the  blissful  scenes 

Of  Eden  griev'd,  no  more  in  hallow'd  bow'r 

On  nect*rine  fruits  to  feast,  fresh  shade  or  vale 

No  more  to  visit,  or  vine-mantled  grot : 

But  all  forlorn  the  naked  wilderness 

And  unrejoicing  solitudes  to  trace. 

Thus,  too,  the  matchless  bard  whose  lay  resounds 

The  ^Splendid  Shilling's"  praise,  in  nightly  gloom 

Of  lonesome  garrett,  pin'd  for  cheerful  ale: 

Whose  steps  in  verse  Miltonic  I  pursue. 

Mean  follower!  like  him,  with  honest  love 

Of  ale  divine  inspired,  and  love  of  song. 

But  long  may  boundless  Heaven,  with  watchful  care. 

Avert  his  hapless  fete!     Enough  for  me 

That,  burning  with  congenial  flame,  I  dar'd 

His  guiding  steps  at  distance  to  pursue. 

And  sing  his  favorite  theme  in  kindred  strains. 

The  foregoing  epic  was  so  clearly  inspired  by  John  Philips' 
poem,  ''The  Splendid  Shilling *'  (in  imitation  of  Milton),  that  1 
cannot  do  better  than  quote  a  few  lines  from  this  well-known 
masterpiece,  which  was  pronounced  by  one  of  the  best  judges 
of  his  time  to  have  been  the  finest  burlesque  written  in  the 
English  language. — Vtde  Tatler^  No.  250  : — 

Sing,  heavenly  muse, 
Things  unattempted  yet,  in  prose  or  rhyme, 
A  shilling  breeches,  or  chimeras  dire. 


Happy  the  man  who,  void  of  cares  and  strife, 
In  silken  or  in  leathern  purse  retains 
A  splendid  shilling :  he  nor  hears  with  pain 
New  oysters  ayd,  nor  sighs  for  cheerful  ale ; 
But  with  his  friends,  when  nightly  mists  arise, 
To  Juniper's  Magpie,*  or  Town  Hall  *  repairs ; 


*  Noted  houses  at  the  time  when  Philips  was  a  student  at  Christ- 
diurch,  somewhere  about  1700. 


Oxford  Songs.  497 

Where,  mindfttl  of  the  nymphs  whose  wantoo  eyes 
Transfixed  his  soul  and  kindled  amorous  flames — 
Chloe  or  Phyllis — he  each  circling  glass 
Wisheth  her  health,  and  joy,  and  equal  love. 
Meanwhile  he  smokes  and  laughs  at  merry  tale. 
Or  pun  ambiguous,  or  conundrum  quaint. 
But  I,  whom  griping  penury  surrounds, 
And  hunger,  sure  attendant  upon  want. 
With  scanty  offiJs  and  small  add  tiff* 
(Wretched  repast)  my  meagre  corps  sustain  : 
Then  solitary  walk,  or  doze  at  home 
In  garret  vile ;  and,  with  a  warming  puff. 
Regale  chill'd  fingers ;  or  from  niche  as  black 
As  winter  chimney  or  well-polished  jet, 
Exhale  Mundtmgiu — ill-perfuming  scent. 

The  next  was  evidently  penned  by  an   amorous  youth,  in 
fact,  by  a  masher  of  the  period : — 


Signs  of  Love  at  Oxfokd. 

She's  as  light  as  the  Greyhound^  and  fair  as  the  Angd^ 
Her  looks  than  the  Mitre  more  sanctified  are ; 

But  she  flies  like  the  Roebuck^  and  leaves  me  to  rage  ill, 
Still  looking  to  her  as  my  true  Polar  Star, 

New  /im-ventions  I  try,  with  new  art  to  adore, 
But  my  fate  is,  alas !  to  be  voted  a  Boar; 

My  Goats  I  forsook  to  contemplate  her  charms. 
And  must  own  she  is  fit  for  our  noble  Kmg*i  Amu. 

Now  Crosid  and  now  Jochrfd^  now  sad,  now  elate, 
The  Chequers  appear  but  a  map  of  my  fate ; 

I  blush'd  like  a  Blue^ur  to  send  her  a  Pheasdmt, 
But  she  called  me  a  Tiiri,  and  rejected  my  present. 

2  I 


498  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

So  I  moped  to  the  Barky  Movjy  griey'd  in  my  mind. 
That  the  Ark  from  the  flood  ever  rescued  mankind ! 

In  my  dreams  Lions  roar,  and  the  Green  Dragon  grins. 
And  fiends  rise  in  the  shape  of  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins. 

When  I  og]e  the  BeUs^  should  I  see  her  approach, 

I  skip  like  a  Nag  and  jump  into  a  Coach; 
She  is  crimson  and  white  like  a  Shoulder  of  Mutton^ 

Not  the  red  of  the  Ox  was  so  bright  when  first  put  on  ; 

Like  the  HoUyhush  prickles  she  scratches  my  liver, 
While  I  moan  and  I  die  like  the  Swan  by  the  river. 

The  later  Brazenose  orations  are  not  up  to  the  standard  of 
those  of  an  earlier  date. 

1880. 

Brazenose  Ale. 

«'  Beer  aniforheer^'—Cld  Proverb. 

••  Maenonii  earminh  attte.'* — Hon  Od.  i.  vi.  2. 

When  Homer  wrote  he  thought  it  quite  the  thing 

To  ask  the  muse  to  teach  him  how  to  sing ; 

But  such  an  opening  now  is  rather  trite, 

So  we'll  dispense  with  Helicon  to-night. 

Yet  he  who  fain  would  write  on  Brazenose  ale, 

(A  subject,  by  the  way,  that's  somewhat  stale). 

Must  seek  some  Inspiration,  for,  I  fear, 

'Tis  vain  to  try  and  find  it  in  the  beer. 

•        •      •  •  .  .  . 

Arise !  awake !  men  shall  not  say 
Thine  hour  of  pride  has  passed  away  ; 
Arise ! — but  soft,  this  much  is  clear. 
The  first  to  mend  must  be  the  beer. 
In  days  of  old  our  Brazenose  ale 
Made  Bass  and  AUsopp  both  grow  pale. 


Oxford  Songs. 

But  DOW  (alaa !   I  griere  to  thbk  it) 
It  only  make*  tboae  pale  who  drink  it ; 
Aod  that  which  once  ioapired  our  ttuK 
Can  only  now  intpire  diigiuL 
Vet  CTCD  thiu  one  brighter  tpark 
Ftaihea  where  all  around  ii  darit, 
For  oDce  again  in  B.  N.  C. 
Thalia  greeta  Calliope, 
And  proud  lona's  diitant  ihore 
Send)  ui  a  Newdigate  once  more. 

But  let  UI  turn  from  thete  reflectionB 

To  other  lighter  iccollectiona. 

One  of  our  lellowi  gone  to  Cairo, 

Chief  Butler  to  a  nx>deni  Pharaoh  1 

Condemned  to  teach  (oh,  haplcM  fate ! ) 

lamtMca  to  a  boy  of  eight ! 

O  Egypt,  Egypt,  nill  the  aame, 

"  The  houie  of  bondage  "  ttill  thy  name  ; 

Alaa  thy  booda,  once  felt  by  few. 

Are  drad  now  the  whole  world  throng  I 

But  near  home  a  gentler  theme 
Recall*  my  lay  to  Itit'  ttream. 
Oh,  drink  ('tia  chivalry  that  calla), 
A  health  to  the  new  ladiea*  halUl 
Though  Girton  boaata  her  wrangler*'  &me, 
Let  Oxford  ttudentt  ihun  the  name, 
Abjure  thoae  atta  too  aptly  known. 
And  aim  at  peacefiil  Grau  alone. 

The  coming  general  election 
Demand*  a  moment  of  reflection  ; 
Shall  Liberal  connieli  rule  the  land, 
Or  Toriei  gain  the  upper  hand ! 
Shall  flooda  of  ale,  triumphant  adll. 
Throw  out  tbe  gnod  PcrmitaTe  Bill  i 

a  I  s 


500  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Up,  brewera !  arm  you  for  the  task ; 
Let  influence  flow  from  every  cask ; 
Adulterate' your  hope  and  malt 
With  endless  alum,  boundless  salt, 
That  every  glass  of  ale  you  pour 
May  make  the  drinker  drink  the  more, 
And  so  your  X  in  truth  may  be 
A  sign  of  unknown  quantity ; 
Up !  and  defend  the  cause  as  dear — 
Imperium^  Beaconsfield,  and  beer. 

And  so  £irewell ;  but  ere  to-night  we  part. 
We'll  drink  one  toast,  and  drink  it  from  the  heart : 
Let  our  last  thought  on  this  Shrove  Tuesday  be 
Health  and  prosperity  to  B.  N.  C. 

1882. 

B&AZENoss  Ale. 

"  He  that  drinks  strong  beer 
And  goes  to  bed  mellow ; 
Lives  as  he  ought  to  live, 
And  dies  a  jolly  fellow." 

Gather  once  more  at  Shrovetide,  sons  of  the  Childe  of  Hale, 
Ho !  Mr  Prior,  prime  us  with  your  choicest  brew  of  ale. 
Which  brings  release  from  ^  trials  "  to  the  votary  of  the  oar, 
And  makes  the  pale-fec'd  student  forget  his  classic  lore. 
Drink  deeply  while  ye  may,  sirs;  for  'tis  rumoured  that  next 

year 
The  brewhouse  will  be  levelled,  and  good-bye  to  Brazenose  beer. 
May  rumour  prove  a  liar^  and  distant  be  the  day 
When  to  Bass,  AUsopp,  and  Guinness,  Mr  Prior  shall  give  way; 
But  if  these  early  leaflets  no  more  your  eyes  shall  greet. 
Like  the  fabled  song  of  the  djring  swan,  may  the  last  notes  be 

sweet 
Now  without  further  prelude  we  plunge  in  nie£as  res 
While  engaged  in  the  digestion  of  our  pancakes — by  degrees. , 


Oxford  Songs.  •  501 

What  meaofi  this  stiange  commotioo  'mongtt  the  pictores  on  the 

wall. 
Why  do  our  benefactors  look  so  exceeding  small  ? 
Proud  Buckingham  is  shaking  in  his  garter  and  his  shoes. 
And  Duchess  Sal  of  Somerset  has  got  a  fit  of  <*  blues;" 
King  Alfred  (twopence  coloured)  is  looking  rather  glum. 
And  would  sell  himself  to  Uni?.  for  a  reasonable  sum. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

The-  Emerald  Isle's  economy  is  in  a  fearful  mess; 

But  the  bold  Irish  patriots — a  despicable  sham — 
Amid  their  country's  ruin  know  how  to  ^  skin  the  lamby" 
So  flying  from  Kilmainham  and  the  clutch  of  the  police, 
They've  sailed  away  to  Yankee  land,  and  found  the  ^golden 
fleece." 

•  •••••• 

But  stay,  the  cup  is  empty,  the  tap  is  running  dry; 

A  toast  we  ne'er  forget,  sirs,  come  fill  your  tankards  high: 
Here's  to  our  chief,  in  B.  N.  C.  long  may  he  play  his  part, 
Long  be  his  portrait  useless,  save  as  a  work  of  art ! 
Here's  to  our  dons  and  fellows — may  they  see  by  next  matric. 
That  muscle  need  not  always  make  the  brain  so  very  thick. 
[^Mau  tana  is  **  quite  precious " — to  use  a  modem  term — 
But  neglect  the  corfui  tanum  and  the  mens  soon  grows  infirm.] 
A  last ''  to  our  noble  selves,"  and  may  we  ever  be 
Loyal  to  Queen  and  country,  our  chief  and  B.  N.  C. 

1884. 

«« AU  hail,  hall  ale !  ''—Ghost  of  Burton. 

One  more  now  joins  the  throng  of  hapless  wights 
Who  vainly  strive  to  climb  Parnassus'  heights ; 
But  he  of  all  that  throng  has  least  to  fear 
Whose  hero's  Prior  and  his  subject  beer. 
Such  noble  themes  would  any  breast  inspire. 
And  e'en  in  Tupper  wake  poetic  ^r^. 
Who  woidd  have  dared  two  years  ago  to  say 
This  noble  beer  would  still  be  quaffed  to-day  ? 


502  fn  Praise  of  Ale. 

With  dim  forebodings  were  our  miods  imbued 
That  for  the  last  time  Brazenoae  ale  was  brewed. 
Whence  came  these  broodings  vain,  now  no  one  asks, 
Far  better  empty  threats  than  empty  casks ! 

One  task  remams,  one  task,  and  only  brief, 
To  drain  a  bumper  to  our  noble  chief; 
And,  last  of  aU,  this  toast  I  now  propose — 
With  brimming  tankards  drink  to  Brazen-nose. 

The  following  Oxford  story  shows  that  the  Vice-Chancellors 
of  Oxford  in  1674  were  by  no  means  bigotted  teetotallers: — 

^  There  is  over  against  Baliol  College,  Oxford,  a  dingy,  horrid, 
scandalous  alehouse,  fit  for  none  but  draymen  and  tinkers  and  such 
as  by  goeing  there  have  made  themselves  equally  scandalous. 
Here  the  Baliol  men  continually  ly,  and  by  perpetuall  bubbeing 
ad  art  to  their  natural  stupidity  to  make  themselves  perfect  sots. 
The  head,  being  informed  of  this,  calld  them  tegeather,  and  in 
a  grave  speech  informed  them  of  the  mischiefs  of  that  hellish 
liquor  calld  ale,  that  it  destroyed  both  body  and  soul,  and 
adviced  them  by  noe  means  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  it; 
but  on  of  them,  not  willing  soe  tamely  to  be  preached  out  of  his 
beloved  liquor,  made  reply  that  the  Vice-Chancelour's  men 
dranke  ale  at  the  Split  Crow,  and  why  should  not  they  too  ? 
The  old  man,  being  nonplused  with  this  reply,  immediately 
packeth  away  to  the  Vice-Chancelour,  and  informed  him  of  the 
ill  example  hb  fellows  gave  the  rest  of  the  town  by  drinkeing  ale, 
and  desired  him  to  prohibit  them  for  the  future;  but  Bathurst, 
not  likeing  his  proposall,  beeing  formerly  and  [stc)  old  lover  of 
ale  himaelfe,  answared  him  roughly  that  there  was  noe  hurt  in 
ale,  and  that  as  long  as  his  fellows  did  noe  worse  he  would  not 
disturb  them,  and  soe  tumd  the  old  man  goeing;  who,  retumeing 
to  his  coUedge,  calld  his  fellows  agam  and  told  them  that  he  had 
been  with  the  Vice-Chancelour,  and  that  he  told  them  there  was 
no  hurt  in  ale;  truely  he  thought  there  was,  but  now,  being 
informed  of  the  contrary,  since  the  Vice-Chancelour  gave  his  men 


Oxford  Songs.  503 

leave  to  drinke  ale,  he  would  give  them  leave  to;  soe  that  now 
they  may  be  aots  by  authority. 

St  GsoftGB  FOR  England. — and  Part. 

Written  by  John  Grubb,  M.A.y  Chriat  Churchy  Oxford. 

{Fntm  the  Percy  Collection.) 

Faulconbridge.  Saint  George, — that  twing'd  the  dragon,  and 
e'er  tmce 
Sits  on  his  horseback  at  mine  hostess's  door. 

King  John^  Act.  II.  Sc  I. 

Fair  Omphale  whipt  him  to  his  wheel. 

As  cook  whips  barking  turn-spit 
From  man,  or  chum,  he  well  knew  how 

To  get  him  lasting  fame: 
He'd  pound  a  giant,  till  the  blood, 

And  milk  till  butter  canoe. 
Often  he  fought  with  huge  battoon. 

And  oftentimes  he  boxed; 
Tapt  a  fresh  monster  once  a  nnonth, 

As  Hervey  *  doth  fresh  hogshead. 
He  gave  Anteus  such  a  hug. 

As  wrestlers  give  in  ComwaU : 
But  George  he  did  the  dragon  kill. 

As  dead  as  any  door-nail. 
St  George  he  was  for  EngUnd  ;  St  Denis  was  for  France, 
Sing,  Honi  loii  qui  maly  pense. 

*  A  noted  drawer  at  the  Mennaid  tavern  in  OxHord. 


504 


CHAPTEH   XV. 

ALE  WIVES. 

0,  Girzy  /  Girzy  !  when  thou  go*st  to  brew^ 
Consider  well  what  you* re  about  to  do  ; 
Be  ^}ery  whe^  very  sedately  tlnnk^ 
That  what you^re going  now  to  make  is  drink: 
Consider  who  must  drink  that  drink^  and  then 
What  'tis  to  have  the  praise  rf  honest  men. 

At  one  time  in  Englandy  as  in  Scotland,  the  bulk  of  the  brewing 
business  was  conducted  by  womeuy  *<Ale  Wives,"  who  first 
brewed  and  then  retailed  their  liquor.  Hence  the  impressive 
nature  of  the  above  exhortation,  which  would  apply  equally  to 
the  modem  high  scientific  brewers,  who  are  up  in  germs,  ferments, 
and  what  not,  as  it  did  to  their  more  primitive  sisters,  who  never 
heard  of  a  protoplasm  in  their  lives.  **  Consider  then  what  'tis  to 
have  the  praise  of  honest  men.'* 

Dr  Cyril  Folkingham,  who  wrote  in  1623,  was  very  severe  on 
the  quacks  of  the  brewing  profi?ssion«  ^The  Mother  Fulsums, 
scarce  worthie  to  bear  brawn  much  less  the  admittance  of  brewing 
beere  or  ale,  which  wanting  both  art  and  industrie,  marr  no  more 
mault  than  they  meddle  with."     The  author  continues : — 

"  But  let  a  neat  husswife  or  canny  alewright  have  the  handling 
of  good  ingredients  (sweet  mault  and  wholesome  water),  and  you 
shall  see  and  will  say  there  is  art  in  brewing  (as  in  most  actions), 
and  that  many  more,  even  of  those  that  ayme  at  brewing  the  best 
ale,  doe  yet  for  all  their  supposed  dexteritie  misse  the  marke,  than 
hit  upon  the  mysterie.  For  you  shall  then  have  a  neat  cuppe  of 
nappie  ale  (right  Darbie,  not  dagger,  though  efFectuaUy  ani- 
mating) wel  boyled,  defecated,  and  cleared,  that  it  shall  equal  the 
best  brewed  beere  in  transpareince,  please  the  most  curious  pallat 


Ale  Wives.  505 

with  mild  quickoetse  of  relish,  quench  the  thirst,  hamoct  the  in- 
ward parts,  helpe  the  concoction  and  distribution  of  meate,  and 
by  its  nKxlerate  penetration  much  further  the  attractive  power  of 
the  parts.  Such  a  cup  of  pure  comfort  (not  lanted  or  gummed) 
find  many  good  fellows  that  walk  er  they  wash  for  their  morning 
draughts  of  true  Darbie." 

Though  a  little  out  of  place,  I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  the 
same  learned  M.D.  m  his  panegyric  on  ^  Health  and  Ale  '* : — 

^  Health  is  the  perfection  and  life  of  life,  and  life  without  it  is 
no  life,  but  even  a  living  death,  where  both  animal  powers  and 
corporal  parts  suffering,  produce  but  lame  and  depraved  actions. 
Being,  therefore,  by  long  and  infidliUe  experience  confirmed  in 
approbation  of  my  panala,  or  panacea,  bred  or  brought  forth  by 
infusion  of  a  well-dispensed  fund  or  bag  of  ingredients,  in  ordinary 
ale  (the  ancient  drink  of  this  country),  than  which  cannot  be  well 
excogitated  a  more  general  worthy  medicine,  that  so  cheap  and 
choice,  without  all  curiositie  doth  tuto  et  jocumde  et  sai  dio  qmt 
iot  hetUf  both  conserve  the  salutary  and  prevent  and  cure  most 
morbosic  afiects  and  diseases  thereunto  incident.  I  could  not 
dispense  with  an  absolute  concealment  of  its  most  precious  worth, 
but  in  some  sort  participate  to  the  worid  the  manifold  benefits 
derivable  from  its  operation." 

The  author  then  proves  *<  that  ale  is  a  wholesome  drinck,  con- 
trarie  to  many  men's  conceits — that  ale  is  a  fit  bodic  and  con- 
venient liquor  to  imbibe  and  participate  the  qualities  and  virtues 
of  ingredients  by  infusion." 

The  old  Udies,  generally  speaking,  seemed  to  love  their  liquor, 
and  were  not  too  proud  to  sample  their  own  productions.  A 
picture  of  the  Scotch  Ale  Wife  and  her  barrel  has  already  been 
given  ;  here  are  two  English  counterparts : — 

A  Tale  of  a  Tankaux 

No  plate  had  John  and  Joan  to  hoard ; 

Plain  folk  in  humble  plight: 
One  only  tankard  crown'd  their  board, 

And  that  was  fill'd  each  night ! 


So6  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Along  whose  inner  bottom  sketched. 

In  pride  of  chubby  grace, 
Some  nide  engrarer's  hand  had  etch'd 

A  baby  angel's  face. 

John  swallow'dy  first,  a  moderate  sup ; 

But  Joan  was  not  like  John, 
For  when  her  lips  once  touch'd  the  cup 

She  drank  till  all  was  gone. 

John  often  urged  her  to  drink  fair, 

But  she  ne'er  changed  a  jot ; 
She  loved  to  see  the  angel  there, 

And  therefore  drain'd  the  pot. 

When  John  found  all  remonstrance  vain. 

Another  card  he  play'd. 
And,  where  the  angel  stood  so  plain, 

A  devil  got  portray'd. 

Joan  saw  the  horns,  Joan  saw  the  tail. 

Yet  Joan  as  stoutly  quafp'd, 
And  ever  when  she  seized  her  ale 

She  clear'd  it  at  a  draught. 

John  stared,  with  wonder  petrified ! 

EBs  hair  rose  on  his  pate, 
And — ^**  Why  do  ybu  drink  now,"  he  cried 

**  At  this  enormous  rate  ?" 

^  O  John,"  says  she,  **  am  I  to  blame 

I  can't  m  conscience  stop  ; 
For,  sure  'twould  be  a  burning  shame 

To  leave  the  devil  a  drop." 

John  Burton  wrote  a  sort  of  In  memoriam  song  or  parody  to  the 
tune  of  "Here's  to  the  Harp." 


Ale  Wives.  507 

Heu'i  to  thi  Bottle. 

Here'i  to  the  bottle  the  loved  to  much 

And  here'i  the  glan  (he  draok  froiDt 
Here'i  the  max  her  lipi  oft  touch'd, 

The  Huff  they  oerer  ibrank  from. 
HcrriDgi  lay  unheeded  by, 

Where'*  the  hand  to  gut  them  ? 
Mackerd  here  neglected  lie, 

Where'i  the  throat  to  hoot  them  ? 

Max  u  good,  but  ihe  I  lored 

Ne'er  ihall  tane  iti  iweetoeu ; 
Her  lipi  that  once  va  deetly  moTcd 

Now  hate  lott  their  fleetoew. 
Gallons  were  pots  when  here  she  strayed. 

Pots  were  pints  to  her  muzzle, 
Hearen  ne'er  formed  a  drunker  maid, 

A  maid  so  fond  of  guzzle. 

John  Skelton,  who  wrote  and  compiled  from  Old  Authors  and 
Old  Books,  drew  tbe  lifelike  portrait  of  a  by-gone  noulnlity,  of 
whom  tbe  Paaij  Magai.au  said  ; — 

"The  Freest  and  boldest  of  hii  humorous  pieces  is  perhaps  '  Tbe 
tunnyog  (or  brewing)  of  Elinor  Rummyog.'  an  alewife  at 
Leatherhead.  It  is  a  [naure  in  the  Dutch  style — minute  in 
detail,  true  and  homely  in  character,  hiding  nothing,  softnung 
nothing.  Like  one  of  Teniera'  *  Boor*  drinking '  in  subject  and 
manner  of  treatment,  it  hat  alio  something  of  his  facile  slightnest 
and  bold  certainty  of  touch.  Placing  you  inside  Elinor's  commot) 
room,  he  proceed*  to  gjve  free  sketches  of  the  wives  who  retort 
there — fijr  all  the  cuttomers  are  feminine — baring  firtt  given  a 
tulSciently  un&vourablc  portrait  of  Elinor  lieraelf.  We  may 
quote  a  pattage  or  two  taken  from  diHereot  pant.  Thit  is  bit 
account  of  her  business : 


" '  But  to  make  up  my  tale 
She  breweih  nappy  ale. 


5o8  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

And  maketh  thereof  sale 
To  traveUers,  to  dnkere, 
To  sweaters,*  to  swinkers,* 
And  all  good  ale-dnnkers. 
That  will  nothing  spare, 
But  drink  till  they  stare, 
And  bring  themselves  bare, 
With,  Now  away  the  mare, 
And  let  us  slay  care. 
As  wise  as  an  hare  ! ' 

*'  Like  a  prudent  alewife,  Elinor  does  not  give  trust :  but  if  her 
customers  lack  cash,  she  will  not  refuse  goods,  and  so  does  a  little 
business  in  the  *  leaving  shop'  line. 

'* '  Instead  of  coin  and  money 
Some  bring  her  a  coney, 
And  some  a  pot  with  honey. 
Some  a  salt,  and  some  a  spoon. 
Some  their  hose,  and  some  their  shoon ; 
Some  ran  a  good  trot. 
With  a  skellet  or  a  pot. 

•  •  ■ 

Anon  cometh  another. 
As  dry  as  the  other, 
And  with  her  doth  bring 
Meal,  salt,  or  other  thing. 
Her  harvest  girdle,  her  wedding  ring. 

.  •  •  • 

Some  bringeth  her  husband's  hood 
Because  the  ale  is  good. 
Another  brought  her  his  cap 
To  offer  to  the  ale  tap. 
With  hey,  and  with  ho, 
Sit  we  down  in  a  row 
And  drink  till  we  blow 

*  Labourer*. 


Ale  Wives.  509 

And  pq>e  tyriy  tjrrlow. 

Some  laid  to  pledge 

Their  hatchet  and  their  wedge, 

Their  heckle  and  their  reel, 

Their  rock,  their  spinning  wheel ; 

AjxI  aome  went  ao  narrow, 

They  laid  to  pledge  their  wharrow. 

Their  ribskin  and  their  spindle. 

Their  needle  and  their  thimble : 

Here  was  scant  thrift 

When  they  made  such  shift 

Their  thirst  was  so  great 

They  asked  never  for  meat. 

But  drink,  still  drink, 

"And  let  the  cat  wink  !  *' 

•  •  •  • 
Some  for  very  need 

Laid  down  a  skein  of  thread. 

•  •  •  •  • 
Another  sort  of  sluts 

Some  brought  walnuts, 
Some  apples,  some  pears. 
Some  brought  their  clipping  shears. 
Some  brought  this  and  that, 
Some  brought  I  know  not  what.' 

"  If  our  poet  is  to  be  trusted,  the  women  of  those  days  had 
manrellous  swallows.     One,  '  hight  Sybil,'  did 

••  *  The  pot  to  her  pluck. 
To  drink  a  good  luck. 
And  swinged  up  a  quart 
At  once  for  her  part.' " 

The  pictures  of  the  sisterhood  gre  not  flattering  by  any  means, 
but  to  every  obverse  there  is  a  reverse,  and  I  extract  the  annexed 
account  from  Cbmnhcris  Journal  for  January  1 848.  The  story 
bears  the  impress  of  truth,  and  shows  undeniably  that  an  alewife 


5  lO  In  Praise  of  Ale 

can  be  a  kindly  hearted,  piousy  and  truly  good  woman,  and  entirely 
reverses  the  teetotal  pictures  which  depict  all  who  deal  in  malt  or 
distilled  drinks  as  emissaries  of  the  evil  one.  I  myself  have 
known  many  kindly  men  and  women  who  have  helped  the  poor 
in  many  ways,  and  yet  have  belonged  to  that  much  abused  class 
the  publicans.  The  story  in  Chamber j^i  Journal  is  too  long  to 
give  in  full,  so  that  I  can  only  take  an  extract.  The  description 
of  the  country  roadside  public  is  charming. 

The  Cornish  Alewife  ;  a  Sketch  from  Life. 

By  Mary  Bennett. 

Far  from  the  town,  where  Tamar*s  waters  flow, 
An  alehouse  stood,  a  hundred  years  or  so : 
Quaint  was  the  porch,  with  ivy  clothed  about. 
And  many  a  comely  fowl  marched  in  and  out, 
Graceful  and  plump,  and  smooth,  of  glowing  hue. 
The  pride  of  Molly,  and  her  profit  too : 
Nor  less  her  pigs,  that  were  so  white  and  clean — 
Pigs  so  precisely  trained  were  never  seen. 
She  was  a  matchless  housewife — sooth  to  say, 
A  better  never  met  the  face  of  day. 
Full  fifty  years  she  kept  this  hostelry, 
Hiding  itself  in  orchard  greenery  ; 
And  graced  with  flowers,  in  rustic  garden  set, 
And  shaded  pasture — slopes  that  round  it  met: 
Here  the  frog  leaps,  and  there  the  robin  sings, 
And  here  the  new-fledged  linnet  tries  his  wings : 
Here  Molly's  cows  regaled  on  scented  clover, 
'Till  night  and  Kitty  called  them  under  cover. 
Well  they  knew  Kitty — ^thrifty  and  fair  was  she, 
And  second  mistress  of  the  hostelry. 
Few  were  the  guests  that  brought  the  hostel  gain, 
But  cheese  and  butter  were  not  made  in  vain  ; 
And  Molly's  clouted  cream  was  known,  I  wis. 
To  fame  as  far  as  the  Metropolis. 


Ale  Wives.  5 1 1 

Twat  true  tboogh  trite,  things  might  hare  been  much  worse — 

Old  Molly  might  have  had  a  lighter  purse ; 

She  might  have  had  a  heavier  too,  but  that 

She  had  a  mind  for  charity  and  chat. 

Oft  to  her  porch  the  wandering  beggar  came. 

With  all  the  n^ws  that  he  could  find  or  frame, 

The  vagrant  gossip  of  the  town  or  dale. 

To  charm  old  Molly  for  a  glass  of  ale. 

And  oft  his  mite  as  little  as  he  can. 

Brings  to  the  hostel  the  poor  quarryman ; 

And  finds  a  large  return  in  warmth  and  ease, 

Kind  words,  good  home-brewed  ale,  bacon,  and  cheese, 

Beans,  peas,  what  not  —from  Molly's  ample  stores. 

And  oft  the  wind- worn  seaman  from  the  shores. 

And  oft  the  swarthy  miner  from  the  caves 

Old  Molly  hailed — she  never  harboured  knaves. 

In  chilling  winter,  when  the  wind  blows  fierce, 

And  the  fell  frost's  sharp  deadly  arrows  pierce. 

How  pleasant  by  the  ale  wife's  fire  to  sit. 

Warm,  snug,  and  merry !  while  the  gay  beams  flit 

O'er  her  oak  chest  like  polished  mirror  bright ; 

Her  r^  brick  floor,  where  scarce  a  soil  doth  light. 

Her  milk-white  tables,  platters  ranged  with  care. 

Her  folio  bible  and  her  brass-clasped  prayer. 

The  subsequent  lines  record  the  last  illness  of  Molly,  and  her 
instructions  to  her  successor : — 

^  Kitty,  give  thou  a  horn  of  ale  to  the  poor 
Miners  and  quarryroen  when  I'm  no  more : 
They'll  often  miss  me  as  they  pass  this  way ; 
I  was  not  a  flint  to  them  that  could  not  pay. 
Beggar  or  worker — well  thou  knowest  that — 
If  folks  were  honest  and  observed  the  mat ; 
For  when  I  found  a  poor  soul  hardly  driven, 
I  lent  my  mite  and  scored  it  up  to  Heaven." 


5^2  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

What  a  contrast  is  the  above  true  story  to  the  £mcy  portraiu 
drawn  by  members  of  the  teetotal  party. 

Simple  faith  is  better  than  Norman  blood,  as  Tennyson  puts 
it,  eq)ecially  when  good  drink  is  concerned. 

An  Ale  Charm. 

During  the  period  when  James  I.  studied  the  sciences  at  St 
Andrews,  under  the  tuition  of  the  celebrated  George  Buchanan, 
every  sort  of  superior  learning  and  knowledge  was  considered  by 
the  illiterate  and  superstitious  vulgar,  as  proceeding  from  magic, 
or,  as  it  was  usually  termed,  the  black  art.  On  this  principle 
George  Buchanan,  on  account  of  his  superior  attainments  in 
literature,  was  esteemed  a  wizard.  A  poor  woman,  who  kept  an 
alehouse  m  St  Andrews,  and  who,  by  some  means  or  other,  had 
lost  all  her  custom,  applied  to  George  for  his  witchcraft  assistance. 
After  some  serious  conversation  George  told  her  that,  if  she 
strictly  adhered  to  his  instructions,  she  would  soon  become  very 
rich.  To  remove  all  his  doubts,  she  gave  him  the  strongest 
assurances  of  her  punctual  compliance  with  his  orders.  *'  Then, 
Maggie,"  said  the  learned  wizard,  *'  the  next  time  you  brew  throw 
out  of  the  vat  six  ladlesfull  of  water  in  the  de'il's  name,  turning 
between  each  ladlefull  round  on  the  left;  this  done,  put  six 
ladlesfull  of  malt  in  the  vat  in  God's  name,  turning  round  by  the 
right  between  each  time ;  and,  in  addition  to  this,  be  sure  to  wear 
this  bandage  round  your  neck,  and  never  open  it  till  the  day  of 
your  death."  Maggie  stricdy  obeyed,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years  accumulated  great  riches.  At  her  death  the  bandage  was 
opened  in  a  solemn  manner,  when  it  was  found  to  contain  a  label 
of  paper,  on  which  were  written  these  words — 

**  Gin  Maggie  brew  good  ale. 
She  will  get  good  sale." 

Here  is  a  story  of  a  successful  ale  wife,  equal  to  anything  in  the 
Romance  of  the  Peerage  2 — 

During  the  troubles  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  a  country  girl 
came  to  London  in  search  of  a  situation,  and,  not  succeeding 


Ale  Wives.  513 

at  the  had  anticipated,  applied  to  be  allowed  to  carry  out  beer 
from  a  brew  houae,  an  occupation  followed  by  women  who 
were  known  at  "tub-women."  The  brewer,  obeenring  our 
heroine  to  be  a  good-looking  girl,  took  her  out  of  her  low 
situation  into  his  house,  and  afterwards  married  her.  In  a  short 
time  he  died  while  she  was  yet  comparatively  young,  and  left  her 
a  very  large  fortune.  She  now  relinquished  the  brewery,  and, 
for  the  proper  settlement  of  her  husband's  affairs,  was  recommended 
to  a  Mr  Hyde,  an  aUe  lawyer  and  practitioner,  whom  she  after- 
wards married.  This  gentleman  ultimately  became  Earl  of 
Clarendon.  From  his  marriage  he  had  issue  one  daughter,  who 
was  betrothed  to,  and  became  the  wife  of,  James  II.,  and  mother 
of  Mary  and  Ann,  both  subsequently  queens  of  England  ! 
The  following  Catnach  ballad  is  not  of  a  high  order  of  merit. 

HiATY  Wit. 

-  Heavy  wet,  heavy  wet,  still  I  cry. 
Full  and  fair  pou  when  I  am  dry 
If  so  be,  you  ask  me  where 
They  are  drawn  I  answer  here. 
Where  on  lips  their  friend  forget. 
That's  the  place  for  heavy  wet. 

Heavy  wet,  heavy  wet,  still  I  cry, 
Meux',  Whitbread's,  nought  care  I, 
To  the  Blue  Posb  let  us  go, 
There  we'll  clouds  of  'baccy  blow. 
And  while  we  all  our  cares  forget. 
All  the  year  we  quaff  heavy  wet. 

Scemt — Bar  of  a  country  public-house.  Boy :  **  Pint  of  porter, 
pleaae,  ma'am."  Landlady:  "Who's  it  for?"  Boy:  "Father." 
Landlady:  "Your  fiither?  I  thought  he  was  a  teetotaler?" 
Boy :  "  So  he  is,  ma'am  ;  he  don't  drink  it — he  only  dipt  his 
toast  in  it  and  eats  it." 


2  K 


514 


chapter  zvi. 

Brewuis. 

A.D,  M.  BREWER  MEDICUM. 

Tbii  fhrcuty  to  drink  a  healthy  u  only  trew 
Of  drink  winch  nun  of  your  profesrion  brew, 

— Epigram  from  Percy. 

• 

Long  before  Cromwell  elevated  the  calling  of  brewing  by  pitch- 
forking his  old  colleagues  into  the  Upper  House  and  the  higher 
offices  of  his  Government,  the  brewer  was  looked  upon  as  an 
iibportant  functionary,  taking  precedence  in  the  Eling's  House- 
hold before  the  physician.  Cromwell,  with  his  burly  figure  and 
grog-blossom  at  the  end  of  his  nose,  looked  the  typical  brewer 
every  inch  of  him.  Ireton,  his  son-in-law,  followed  the  same 
calling ;  and  Colonel  Pride  had  acted  as  a  brewer's  man,  or  per- 
haps a  manager,  before  he  attained  his  majority.  Time  out  of 
mind  the.  brewers  haver  held  an  honourable  place  both  on  the 
Bench  and  in  the  Senate  ;  their  numbers  have  contributed  a  fair 
contingent  to  the  lower  strata  of  the  upper  ten ;  and  now  we  have 
the  apotheosis  of  Sir  Henry  Allsopp  transferred  to  the  House  of 
Lords.  The  Foleys  and  other  great  ironmasters  have  been  en- 
nobled to  a  greater  extent  than  the  brewers ;  but  the  whirligig  of 
time  brings  about  strange  revenges,  so  we  may  hope  to  see  that 
the  enormous  benefactions,  works  of  charity,  which  many 
members  of  the  craft  have  endowed  and  carried  out,  will  in  due 
time  receive  fitting  recognition  from  the  powers  that  be. 

Those  who  carp  at  the  brewing  and  licensed  victuallers'  trades 
would  do  well  to  remember  the  immense  amounts  which  they 
contribute  annually  in  the  form  of  educational  and  charitable  en- 
dowments, and  the  many  thousands  of  children  they  have  been  the 
means  of  educating  in  a  godly  and  practical  manner.    These 


Brewers.  515 

uudtntioDs  are  laidng  and  noble  monaments  in  eridcnoe  of  the 
munificence  of  the  trades,  and  second  only  in  importance  to  thote 
supported  by  that  loyal  and  noUe  band  who  meet  together  for 
brotherly  love,  relief,  and  truth,  and  of  whose  institutioo  it  may 
be  truly  said,  '*  Kings  shall  be  thy  nursing  fathers.'' 

Old  Taylor,  paradoxically  named  the  ^  Water  Poet,''  for  he 
seldom  drank  the  limpid,  and  wrote  perhaps  more  about  beerhouses 
than  any  man,  could  not  refrain  from  a  flmg  at  the  brewen^  though 
he  admits  that  he  had  to  *■  whet  his  whistle  "  before  he  could  get 
up  sufficient  dirine  afflatus  to  pen  the  following  (/^n^,  162  i  ) : — 

Thb  Tradi  07  Buwmo. 

<«  Of  all  trades  in  the  world,  a  brewer  is  the  loadstone  which 
draws  the  customs  of  all  functions  unto  it.  It  is  the  mark  or 
upshot  of  every  man's  ayme,  and  the  bottomlesse  whirlepook  that 
swallows  up  the  profits  of  rich  and  poore.  The  brewer's  art 
(like  a  wild  kettrell  or  lemand  hawke)  flies  at  all  game ;  or  like 
a  butler's  boxe  at  Christroaase,  it  is  sure  to  win,  whosoerer  loses. 
In  a  wordy  it  rules  and  raignes  (in  some  sort)  as  Augustus  Caesar 
did,  for  it  uxeth  the  whole  earth.  Your  innes  and  your  ale- 
houses are  brookes  and  rivers,  and  their  clients  are  small  rills  and 
springs,  who  all  (very  dutifully)  doe  pay  their  tributes  to  the 
boundless  ocean  of  the  brewhouse.  For,  all  the  worid  knowes, 
that  if  men  and  women  did  drinke  no  more  than  sufficed  nature, 
or  if  it  were  but  a  little  extraorfUnary  now  and  then  upon 
occasion,  or  by  chance  as  you  may  terme  it ;  if  drinking  were 
used  in  any  reason,  or  any  reason  used  in  drinking,  I  pray  ye  what 
would  become  of  the  brewer  then  ?  Surely  we  doe  lire  in  an  age 
wherein  the  seren  deadly  sins  are  erery  man's  trade  and  linng.* 
•  **  Pride  is  the  maintainer  of  thousands,  which  would  else  peritb  ; 
as  mercers,  taylors,  embroydrers,    silkmen,    cutters,    dnwers, 

*  ^^Some,**  ooDtinuet  the  author,  who  oreHlowt  in  a  fbotnoti^  "  make  a 
profit  of  qutneUing ;  lome  pick  their  UHngi  out  of  oootcotioa  and  debate ; 
tome  thrite  and  grow  fiit  by  gluttooy ;  many  are  braTely  maintained  by 
bribery,  theft,  cheating,  roguery,  and  TiUaioy ;  but  pat  til  these  together, 
and  joine  to  tliem  all  torti  of  people  elae,  and  they  all  in  general  are 
drinkcn,  and  oonaeqiiently  the  brewer's  cUenti  and  caatomenL* 

2  K  2 


5 1 6  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

sempstersy  laundresses,  of  which  functions  there  are  millions 
which  would  starve  but  for  Madame  Pride,  with  her  changeable 
fashions.  Letchery,  what  a  continual  crop  of  profits  it  yields, 
appears  by  the  gallant  thriving  and  gawdy  outsides  of  many  he 
and  she,  private  and  public  sinners,  both  in  citie  and  suburbs. 
Covetousnesse  is  embroydered  with  extortion,  and  warmly  lined 
and  furred  with  oppression  ;  and  though  it  be  a  divell,  yet  is  it 
most  idolatrously  worshipped  by  those  simple  sheep-headed 
fboles,  whom  it  hath  undone  and  beggared.  I  could  *speake  of 
other  vices,  how  profitable  they  are  to  a  commonwealth  ;  but  my 
invention  is  thirsty,  and  must  have  one  carouse  more  at  the  brew- 
house,  who  (as  I  take  it)  hath  a  greater  share  than  any  in  the 
gaioes  which  spring  from  the  world's  abuses. 

'*  If  any  man  hang,  drowne,  stabbe,  or  by  any  violent  meanes 
make  away  his  life,  the  goods  and  lands  of  any  such  person  are 
forfeit'to  the  use  of  the  king ;  and  I  see  no  reason  but  those 
which  kiU  themselves  with  drinking  should  be  in  the  same  estate, 
and  be  buried  in  the  highways,  with  a  stave  drove  thorow  them  ; 
and  if  I  had  but  a  grant  of  this  suite,  I  would  not  but  that  in 
seven  yeeres  (if  my  charity  would  but  agree  with  my  wealth)  I 
might  erect  almeshouses,  fire  schooles,  mend  highways,  and  make 
bridges ;  for  I  dare  sweare  that  a  number  (almost  numberlesse) 
have  confessed  upon  their  death-beds  that  at  such  and  such  a 
time,  in  such  and  such  place,  they  dranke  so  much,  which  made 
them  surfeite,  of  which  surfeite  they  languished  and  dyed.  The 
maine  benefit  of  these  superfluous  and  manslaughtering  expenses 
comes  to  the  brewer ;  so  that,  if  a  brewer  be  in  any  office,  I  hold 
him  to  be  a  very  ingrateful  man  if  he  punish  a  drunkard ;  for 
every  stiffe,  pot-valiant  drunkard  is  a  post,  beam,  or  pillar,  which 
holds  up  the  brewhouse ;  for  as  the  barke  is  to  the  tree,  so  is  a 
good  drinker  to  the  brewer/ 

•  He  loved  to  give  the  brewers  a  sly  dig,  though  he  was  a  good 
friend  to  them.     Note  the  next  stanzas  : — 

The  Brewe&'s  Coachman. 

Honest  William,  an  easy  and  good-natur'd  fellow, 
Wou'd  a  little  too  oft  get  a  little  too  mellow : 


Brewers.  5 1 7 

Bodf  coachnuD  wai  he  to  an  enunent  brewer — 
No  better  e'er  tax.  on  a  box,  to  be  fare. 
Hii  coach  WH  kept  clean,  and  no  mothen  or  nunea 
Took  that  care  of  their  babei  that  be  took  of  hii  honei. 
He  bad  thete — ay,  and  fifty  good  qnalitiei  more, 
Bat  the  butinen  of  tipliog  cou'd  ne'er  be  got  o'er; 
So  )ut  master  effectually  nKDded  tbe  nutter 
By  hinag  a  nun  who  drank  nothing  but  water. 
Now,  William,  ny«  he,  you  fee  the  plain  cate : 
Had  yaa  drunk  as  he  doet,  you'd  kept  a  good  place. 
Drink  water!  quoth  William — had  all  men  done  to. 
You'd  ncTer  hare  wabted  >  coachman,  I  trow  : 
TbeyVe  aoaken,  like  me,  whom  yoa  load  with  reproacbet. 
That  enable  you  brewera  to  ride  b  your  coachet. 
The  brewer  alluded  to  in  thu  Rory  erideotly  preferred  acting 
on  tbe  following  epigram  freely  trantlated  from  Horace,  book 
xu.,q>.3o:— 

Ned  it  a  tober  fellow,  they  pretend — 
Such  wou'd  I  have  my  coachman,  not  my  friend. 
Pennant,  in  hi*  day,  took  up  the  cudgeli  in  deficnce  of  the 
trade. 

"  It  ii  not  in  my  power,"  continue*  Pennant,  "  to  trace  the  pro- 
grett  of  thit  important  article  of  trade.  Let  me  only  tay  that  it  it 
nowanationalcoocero;  for  the  duty  on  malt,  from  July  5th,  178$, 
to  the  tame  day  in  1 786,  produced  a  million  and  a  half  of  money 
to  tbe  tupport  of  the  Sute  from  a  liquor  which  UTigoratci  tbe 
bodiei  of  itt  willing  tubjectt,  to  defend  the  Uettingi  they  enjoy  i 
while  that  from  Stygian  ^  eoerratet  and  incapadtatet.  One  of 
thete  cbtvaUm  dt  main  (at  an  impertinent  Freachroan  ityled  > 
mott  resectable  gentleman  of  tbe  trade — tbe  late  Humphrey 
Partooi)  hat,  within  one  year,  contributed  not  leti  than  fifty 
thousmd  pouodt  to  hit  own  thare.  The  tight  of  a  great  Loadoo 
brewhouie  exhibiu  a  magnificence  untpeakaUe.  The  Tettelt 
exhibit  tbe  extent  of  the  trade.  Mr  Meux,ofLiquorpond  Street, 
Gray't  Inn  Lane  (now  Reid'a  Brewery,  Clerkenwell  Road), 
ont  bow  twenty-four  tuni^  cootainiag  in  all  thiny-five  tbouBUKl 


5i8  In  Praise  rf  Ale. 

barreb  of  wfaoleMmie  liquor,  which  enables  the  London  porter 
drinkers  to  undergo  tasks  that  ten  gin  drinkers  would  sink  under. 
In  the  present  year  he  has  built  a  vessel  sixty  feet  in  diameter,  a 
hundred  and  se?enty-six  feet  in  circumference,  and  twenty-three 
fleet  in  heighL  It  cost  fiye  thousand  pounds  in  building,  and 
contains  from  ten  to  twelve  thousand  barrels  of  beer,  valued  at 
about  twenty  thousand  pounds." 

Mr  Flowers,  a  Hertfordshire  brewer,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
century  penned  the  followmg  eloquent  defence  of  the  trade  to 
which  he  belong^  :^ 

^  If  we  take  a  retrospective  view  of  that  class  of  society,  recog- 
nized by  law  under  the  name  of  common  brewers,  it  may  be  said, 
without  fear  of  contradiction,  that  a  more  respectable  set  of  people 
for  propriety,  mtegrity,  industry,  and  liberality  never  yet  existed. 
I  might  challenge  a  comparison  with  all  the  different  ranks  of 
society — the  fiumer,  the  mechanic,  the  tradesman,  the  merchant, 
the  lawgiver,  the  magistrate,  the  clergy,  the  commons,  and  the 
nobility.  It  is,  however,  invidious  to  find  &ult  with  whole 
classes  of  society ;  because  there  are  good  men  amongst  all.  I 
shall,  therefore,  forbear  any  comparison ;  yet  no  men  have  been  so 
much  abused  or  unjusdy  calumniated  as  the  common  brewer;  none 
have  borne  such  treatment  with  more  exemplary  patience.  As 
*  a  good  name  is  better  than  riches,'  I  am  induced  to  examine  the 
charges  made  against  them,  and  point  out  their  &llacy  and  injustice." 

I  take  it  that  much  of  the  abuse  of  which  Mr  Flowers  com- 
plained was  more  in  the  nature  of  *' chaff''  than  downright 
invective.  Take  for  instance  the  next  dedicatory  lines  firom  the 
*«  Vade  Mecnm  to  Malt  Worms,"  a  book  written  entirely  in  the 
interests  of  publicans  and  brewers.  The  latter  class  can  stand 
chaff,  but  naturally  enough  object  to  the  downright  coarse  abuse 
which  the  jo-called  temperate  people  delight  to  indulge  in  at  their 
expense.  Now  for  the  dedication,  which  in  a  measure  I  will 
appropriate  to  myself:^ 

Dedication. 

To  you.  Right  Wordiipful  the  Brewers ! 
These  6cts  and  scraps  of  Course  are  yours. 


Brmers.  519 

Became  they  treat  of  Rickiiig  Facet, 

Applies  for  Favoon  and  for  Gracet, 

In  ereiy  one'i  reipectire  Station, 

By  vay  of  fonna]  DnncanoN  : 

Hoping,  at  leait,  you'll  thow  your  fireedio^ 

Id  ginog  them  ■  tranaent  Reading : 

And  will  allow  kudc  Minoitt  Lei*ure 

From  CuH-BooE  that  'makei  known  your  Treaiore 

To  look  on  Boot  without  OSence, 

Telia  you  by  whom  you  get  yom'  PixCB ; 

To  whom  you  are  younelvea  beholding, 

Their  Cuatoma  and  their  Tunc  unfolding  % 

Which  from  the  Muh-Tui  and  the  Vat, 

Mount  yoa  up  to  the  Lord  know*  what. 

Make  you  to  Coach  youraelrea  and  Spouaet, 

And  build  up  Palacei  for  Hooaea, 

What  if 't  aome  chapt  of  youn  affront  *. 

Muit  you  rtraight  cry  out,  Fye  upon  "t  i 

SuK  men  of  Bi/ng-Holu  and  of  Gaann 

Can't  he  ao  denitute  of  BaatKi 

Aa  not  to  know  from  whence  ariae 

The  golden  heapa  that  glut  their  Eyet, 

Eapedally  nncc  not  a  Line 

Prmnti  their  gulling  Foob  of  Coni, 

But  adda  to  what  they'iv  got  before, 

Pcnnting  out  Placet  o'er  and  o'er 

Where  the  beit  li^gor't  to  be  had, 

\inthout  one  word  of  drink  that't  b«d. 

Then,  Doughty  Sona  of  Hon  and  Malt, 

Say  not  our  author  ia  in  Fault, 

Or  for  ditcoveiing  foolith  pranks, 

Deaerving  anything  but  thanka ; 

Not  that  be  fan  what  thall  entue, 

For  at  tome  Bau  bo  aome  may  BtEw; 

Or  dreadt  the  kait  impending  Danger 

From  the  Caprice  of  Fnend  or  Straogert 

Since  he  declaica,  the  wordt  Wak  Hawe  I 


S20  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Shou'd  White  Apron,  Blue  Apron  baulk* 

It  ii  decreed — Nor  shall  your  Fate 

(If  you  of  Malt  and  Hops  abate, 

If  one  of  you  be  caught  so  hardy. 

As  to  be  caught  in  Duty^Tardy) 

Be  otherwise  than  that  which  Rome 

Assigned  to  be  a  Murd'rer's  Doom  : 

For  take  him  rightly,  too  much  water 

Is  fuU  as  criminal  a  matter 

As  an3rthing  that  calls  for  Satyr. 

And  he  that  could  good  Guzzle  praise, 

Can,  when  'tis  bad,  Invectives  raise, 

And  for  Redress  find  Means  and  Ways, 

Since  'tis  noost  evidently  sure 

He'll  quit  the  Ale-Draper  for  the  Brewer, 

Turn  Justice  to  its  proper  Course, 

And  place  the  Saddle  on  the  Right  Horse. 

These  are  the  Schemes  he  has  in  view, 

So,  Gentry  of  the  Dray, 

Adieu. 

The  beer  of  England  was  well  known  and  appreciated  on  the 
Continent  at  a  very  early  period.  In  fact,  AUsopp's  ale  was 
better  known  m  Russia  at  the  beginning  of  this  century  than  it 
was  in  London,  and  that  firm  did  an  enormous  European  trade, 
until  Napoleon  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Emperor  of  Russia  on 
the  other,  prohibited  the  importation  of  English  beer,  and  so  for 
a  time  almost  ruined  AUsopp's  trade.  This  prohibition  did  not 
extend  to  black  beers,  and  hence  AUsopp's  misfortune  became 
Barclay  &  Perkins'  opportunity,  of  which  they  prompdy  availed 
themselves,  and  did  an  enormous  trade  on  the  Continent  in  their 
justly  celebrated  stout. 

It  is  satisfactory  to  find  that  the  English  brewers  still  maintain 
the  high  character  of  their  liquor  by  genuine  means. 

At  the  friendly  reunion  between  the  French,  Belgian,  and 
Burton  brewers,  which  took  place  in  1885,  Sir  Arthur  Bass 
made  a  few  remarks  anent  Burton  beer  which  deserved  to  be  re- 


Brewers.  521 

membered  by  all.  I  quoW  horn  memoiy,  but  the  purport  of  his 
remarki  was  to  the  effect  that  in  Burton  they  had  do  royal 
method  in  the  production  of  their  choice  ale :  its  excellence  was 
simply  due  to  the  choice  quality  of  the  malt  and  hops  they  used, 
combined,  of  course,  with  the  finest  supply  of  natural  water  in  the 
world  for  the  purpose.  This  water  is  produced  m  nature's  oWn 
laboratory,  and,  though  innumerable  attempts  have  been  made  by 
chemisu  to  imitate  it,  they  have  always  been  &ilures  and  have 
served  to  illustrate  the  old  axiom  that  chemists  can  decompose 
but  they  cannot  re-compose ;  and  they  certainly  cannot  compose 
Burton  water.  It  is  gratifying,  in  these  days  of  hop  and  malt 
substitutes  and  other  abominations,  to  know  that  the  princes  of 
the  trade  still  adhere  to  the  genuine  malt  and  hops  in  the  con- 
coction of  their  world-renowned  drink. 

The  following  figures  from  Kutlo^t  Gazetie  show  that  the 
English  trade  shows  no  signs  of  falling  off. 

A  return  of  the  beer  production  of  the  various  countries  last 
year  shows  that  Germany  ranks  second,  the  first  place  bemg  taken 
by  Great  Britain,  whose  production  was  44,060,000  hectolitres, 
or  125  litres  per  head  of  the  population,  there  being  27,050 
breweries  in  that  country ;  while  Germany  with  2  59989  bieweries, 
produced  41,2 1 1,691  hectolitres,  an  average  of  90  litres  per  bead 
of  the  population.  The  breweries  in  Germany  last  year  increased 
85,  and  the  beer  production  increased  1,883,023  hectolitres. 

Recendy  there  has  been  a  marked  tendency  to  convert  private 
brewing  firms  into  joint  stock  undertakings,  although  it  is  but 
seldom  that  the  largest  concerns  have  to  appeal  to  the  general 
public  for  subscriptions,  as  the  shares  are  usually  taken  up  entirely 
by  the  firms  themselves.  In  this  way  the  fiiUowing  well-known 
brewing  firms  have  been  cooverted  into  joint-stock  companies  during 
the  year: — Messrs  Watney  5c  Co.,  with  a  capital  of  ;^i,300^ooo; 
Messrs  Meux  &  Co.,  capital  j£  1,500^000;  Messrs  Allsopp,  capital 
;^3,300,ooo;  Messrs  Guineas  k  Co.,  capital,  j£6,ooo»ooo; 
Messrs  H.  &  G.  Simoods,  capital  ;^500,ooo ;  Messrs  Gleadow, 
Dibb  &  Co.,  capital  ;^200/xx> ;  Messrs  Morgan  Bros.,  Forest 
Hill,  capital  j£  1 00,000 ;  besides  many  other  smaller  concerns. 

It  is  calculated  that  Great  Britain  brews  about  1,050,000,000 


522  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

• 

galloDfl  of  beer  yearly;  Geniiaoy,\  90090C(Vxx>;  Auitria* 
270,000,000;  Belgium,  180,000,000;  France,  150,000^000; 
Rotna,  50,000^000 ;  Holland,  33,000^000 ;  Denmark, 
30,00(^000;  Sweden,  20,000,000;  Switzerland,  17,000,000; 
Norway,  i6,5op,ooa 

The  malt  conramed  in  England  by  brewen  between  October 
ist,  1879,  and  Sepfeember  30th*  1880^  amounted  to  41,925,006 
boahels ;  the  yictnallert  m  the  same  period  consomed  4,996,084 
bdthelfl,  and  the  penont  licensed  to  sell  beer  to  be  drank  on  and 
off  the  premises  consumed  2,713,225  bushels. 

I  need  not  cpioDe  statistics  further,  mteresdng  as  they  may  be  in 
the  way  of  political  economy,  to  show  the  immense  importance 
of  the  trade.  Those  who  wish  to  pursue  the  inquiry  will  find  all 
the  statistics  duly  recorded  in  M 'Culloch's  Dictionary,  and  the 
Excise,  Revenue,  and  Board  of  Trade  Returns.  The  total 
amount  invested  in  the  liquor  trades  of  the  United  Kingdom 
amounts  to  ;^  117,100,000:  thus  apportioned  —  England, 
;^92,3i5,ooo;  Scodand,^  13,344,000;  Ireland,;^!  1,441,000. 

Only  second  in  importance  and  amount  to  cotton  comes  beer 
and  its  congeners,  and  yet,  marvellous  to  relate,  some  of  our 
would-be  statesmen  and  legislators,  with  rash  and  ill-considered 
schemes,  would  disorg^mise  this  vast  interest,  with  iu  capital  of 
j^i  17,000,000  audits  formidable  army  of  1,500,0000  depen- 
dents! What  wonder,  when  we  reflect  not.  only  upon  the 
industrial  but  also  the  social  bearings  of  the  question,  that  any 
interference  with  the  national  beverage — the  poor  man's  pmt  of 
beer — 1%  jealously  regarded.  No  doubt  reform  m  the  drinking 
habits  of  this  country  is  desirable ;  but  no  apprentice-hand  should 
undertake  to  eilect  this :  it  is  a  task,  moreover,  which  cannot  be 
dealt  with  in  a  fimatical  spirit,  but  must  be  entered  upon  with  the 
utmost  care,  and  be  conducted  with  the  greatest  tenderness  towards 
existing  mterests,  and  considerations  for  the  hatnts,  customs,  and 
even  prejudices  of  the  free  people  of  these  isles.  The  statesman 
who  shall  succeed  in  making  England  a  more  sober  nation  will 
deserve  its  everlasting  gratitude,  and  secure  for  himself  undying 
fame.  Meanwhile,  the  people  are  yearly  becoming  more  sober, 
and  to  this  result  the  brewers  themselves  are  contributing  largely 


Brewers.  523 

both  by  precqit  and  example.  The  late  Mr  M.  T.  Ban,  who 
was  an  earnest  temperate  man  m  the  highest  sense  of  the  term, 
that  is,  of  advocating  moderation  in  all  things,  wrote  to  me  a  letter 
shortly  before  his  death, — ^a  letter  from  which  I  take  the  liberty  of 
<{QOCing  one  noteworthy  passage : — 

**  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  purity  of  the  liquor  consumed, 
of  whatever  sort,  must  contribute  in  a  great  degree  to  temperance. 
It  may  become  an  mterestmg  question  whether  it  is  not  desirable 
to  discourage,  in  a  great  degree,  all  beverages  which  contribute  to 
drunkenness  when  consumed  without  great  caution." 

This  supports  the  argument  I  have  advanced  throughout,  that 
if  men  would  confine  themselves  nx>re  to  genuine  English  beer, 
and  eschew  vile  spirits,  doctored  port,  **  Hambro'  sherry,'*  and 
^  prune  wine,"  we  should  as  a  nation  become  more  sober  and 
enjoy  better  health. 

When  Thrale's  brewery  m  Southwark  was  sold  after  his  decease, 
Dr  Johnson,  who  had  been  a  great  friend  of  the  hospitable 
brewer,  took  care  to  explain  **  that  they  were  not  met  to  sell  old 
hoops  and  barrels,  but  the  potentiality  of  growing  rich  beyond  the 
dreams  of  avarice."  llie  then  Messrs  Barclay  &  Perkins  bought 
the  potentiality,  and,  we  may  well  believe,  have  made  good  use  of 
it.  The  only  thing  we  remember  that  ruffled  the  uniform 
smoothness  of  their  daily  life  occurred  in  or  about  1 849,  when 
the  Austrian  general,  Haynau,  went  to  **do"  the  brewery,  which 
was  one  of  the  sights  of  London.  Haynau,  rightly  or  wrongly, 
had  the  credit  of  being  a  woman  flogger,  whereupon  the  gallant 
brewers  of  Barclay  took  upon  themselves  to  avenge  the  cause  of 
the  fiur  sex.  Haynau  was  floored  with  a  trass  of  hay,  and 
somewhat  mauled,  in  ha, ;  and,  after  having  been  ^  chivied  "  all 
round  the  brewery,  found  refuge  in  a  dust  bin,  from  whence  he 
was  rescued  somewhat  the  worse  for  wear.  Oh  1  what  a  row» 
what  a  rumpus  and  a  rioting  there  was  on  that  occasion,  which  wu 
the  sensation  of  the  day,  and  almost  led  to  a  diplomatic  rapture 
between  the  courts  of  England  and  Anstrii.  Old  Dr  Samuel 
spoke  prophetically  when  he  said,  *^  The  potentiality  of  growing 
rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice."  Some  of  our  larger  brewing 
firms  9ttm  to  have  secured  this  potentiality,  though  the  smaller 


5M  InPrauerfAle. 

ones  miSkr  propoitioiiately.  To  do  the  former  justice,  however^ 
they  in  moit  cases  dvt^tt  their  wealth  right  royaliy. 

The  bottled  beer  trade  is  bat  an  mddence  of  the  brewing,  but 
it  inrolves  an  immense  amount  of  labour  and  capital. 

When  Dean  Nowell  had  to  make  himself  scarce,  and  hid 
away  his  botde  of  beer,  and  then,  a  few  years  afterwards,  redis- 
torfoed  his  treasure  and  found  it  *^  not  a  bottle,  but  a  gun,  such 
was  the  sound  of  it  when  opened,"  as  the  veracious  chronicler 
Fuller  bforms  us,  he  little  dreamed  of  the  enormous  impetus 
which  his  accidental  discovery  would  give  in  future  ages  to  the 
home  and  foreign  trade  in  the  shape  of  bottled  beer,  which  has 
now  assumed  gigantic  proportions,  and,  in  delicacy  of  manipula- 
tive skill,  the  dignity  of  a  fine  arL  The  soul  of  the  export 
botder  needs  to  be  a  prophetic  one,  that  will  enable  him  to  judge 
not  so  much  as  to  how  the  beer  tastes  now,  but  how  it  will  turn  out 
after  it  has  '^ crossed  the  Line"  and  received  its  baptism  of  fire  under 
the  tropics,  or  at  the  Antipodes.  To  show  the  enormous  extent  to 
which  the  export  of  bottled  beer  goes  on,  I  will  take  one  repre- 
sentative firm,  Messrs  Read  Brs.,  who  confine  themselves  exclu- 
sively to  the  foreign  trade,  and  are  one  of  the  largest  export  firms. 

Their  castellated  building,  in  the  Scottish  baronial  style  of 
architecture,  is  an  imposing  and  picturesque  structure  on  the 
Midland  Railway  at  Kentish  Town.  The  trucks  that  are 
loaded  at  the  Burton  sidings  are  unloaded  at  Messrs  Read's 
wharf,  and  again  re-loaded  with  full  bottles  packed  in  cases, 
which  they  deliver  in  turns  at  the  various  docks  for  shipment  to 
all  parts  of  the  world,  so  that  the  greatest  economy  of  haulage 
and  tnmsit  is  efiected.  The  firm  confine  their  operations  in  ale 
to  Messrs  Bass  and  Meux'  production,  their  normal  stock  in 
Kentish  Town  being  2,400  hogsheads  in  process  of  maturing,  in 
addition  to  the  enormous  stocks  they  keep  on  hand  in  Burton. 
The  average  weekly  turnout  exceeds  60,000  bottles.  The  usual 
stock  of  botdes  amount  to,  say,  700,000.  The  machinery  used 
in  corking  and  pressing  is  the  invention  of  Messrs  Read,  but  the 
wiring,  capsuling,  and  labelling  are  done  by  hand,  and  it  is  re- 
markable what  wonderful  rapidity  the  botding  lads  acquire  in  the 
constant  practice  of  their  art ;  in  short,  they  wire  their  corks 


Brewers.  525 

with  skill  and  dexterity.  Messrs  Read  very  properly  point  out 
that  the  responsibility  of  bottling  is  a  serioos  one,  for  if  the  ale  is 
not  bottled  at  the  right  time,  the  results  will  be  disastrous,  and  as 
the  various  brewings  differ  as  to  the  time  at  which  they  mature, 
a  knowledge  of  the  right  moment  when  a  butt  is  in  prime 
bottling  condition  can  only  be  obtained  by  long  experience  and 
observation,  whilst  the  effects  of  climatic  changes  and  conditions 
in  the  ale  have  also  to  be  studied.  I  have  instanced  Messrs 
Read's  bottling  establishment  not  in  any  invidious  spirit,  for  I 
know  Messrs  Foster's  and  other  firms  turn  out  an  enormous 
quantity  of  bottled  ale,  but  I  have  no  data  of  the  amount,  and, 
moreover,  Messrs  Read  confine  themselves  exclusively  to  the 
export  trade,  and  their  ^  Bull  dog  "  brand  is  deservedly  known 
in  all  parts  of  the  world,  where  it  creams,  mandes,  and  at  once 
exhilarates  and  refreshes  the  thirsty  wanderer,  and  makes  him 
bless  Burton  and  its  beverage.  As  the  Irishman  very  properly 
remarks — 

A  bottle  is  good  when  it's  not  too  new, 
I'm  fond  of  one,  but  I  dote  upon  two. 

We  were  told  by  a  great  authority  who  wrote  just  after  the 
Indian  Mutiny  of  1857,  that  if  the  English  had  been  turned  out 
of  Hindostan  at  that  time,  the  only  relics  of  their  rule  which 
they  would  have  left  behind  them  would  be  gigantic  piles  of  pale 
ale  bottles. 

As  Punch  puts  it,  the  real  bitter  cry  of  London  is  the  demand 
for  Bass  and  Allsopp,  to  which  might  be  added  that  for  the 
cooling  beverage  of  Ind  Coope  U.  Co.  Messrs  Reid's  output 
therefore  aggregates  3, 1 20,000  bottles  annually.  Enormous  as 
these  figures  are,  however,  they  are  put  into  the  shade  by  Messrs 
Bass,  whose  aggregate  annual  issue  of  labels  to  their  various  bottling 
agenu  amounts  to  over  a  hundred  millions.  We  have  then  to  con- 
sider what  Messrs  Allsopp,  Meuz,  Ind  Coope,  and  the  other  well- 
known  brewers,  turn  out,  to  get  any  adequate  idea  of  the  labour 
and  capital  involved  in  the  botding  trade.  After  that  one  can 
well  believe  the  travellere'  ules,  that  they  have  seen  the  apex  of 
the  Great  Pyramid  adorned  with   Bass'  labels,  and  the  empty 


526  In  Praise  tf  Ale. 

bottlet  lying  about  in  profusioD.  Another  tnnreller  relates  that 
in  Central  Ruana  a  grandee  will  give  his  most  distinguished 
friends  as  a  treat  a  bottle  of  Bass,  which  is  prized  more  highly 
than  the  oldest  and  finest  Johannisberg.  So  highly  is  the 
precious  ambrosial  nectar  esteemed,  indeed,  that  it  costs  1 2s.  6d. 
per  bottle,  and  host  and  guests  sip  it  with  silver  teaspoons !  I 
quote  this  story  for  what  it  is  worth,  but  I  do  know,  that  some 
years  ago,  at  one  foreign  port  and  coaling  Hation,  the  officers  of 
the  army  and  nayy  were  charged  most  exorbitant  prices  for 
bottled  ale,  and  I  was  threatened  with  an  action  for  heayy 
damages  for  baring  exposed  the  extortion  b  a  newspaper  article. 

Burton  is  the  hub  of  the  brewing  world,  as  Boston  is  of  the 
Uniyerse,  yet,  except  locally,  the  ales  were  comparatiTely  litde 
known  until  the  commencement  of  the  century.  This  arose  from 
the  cost  of  inland  transit,  which  was  carried  on  by  means  of  the 
old  common  stage  waggon,  and  was  of  course  ruinous.  It  was 
not  dll  the  passing  of  the  Trent  Navigadon  Act  of  1 698  that  the 
trade  began  to  assume  any  importance  among  the  Staffordshire 
industries.  Brindsley  followed  later  on  with  his  network  of 
canals  and  inland  navigation,  and  then  the  town  came  to  first  and 
foremost.  The  Midland  Railway  put  the  crown  of  prosperity  on 
the  town  ;  and  the  development  of  the  beer  industry  during  the 
past  half  century  has  been  something  marvellous. 

At  that  rate  one  might  well  re-echo  -Lord  Neave's  wish, 
which  would  imply  a  modest  competence : — 

^  When  the  evening  of  life  comes  with  temperate  ray. 
To  cool  the  hot  blood  that  has  boiled  all  the  day ; 
May  some  sober  pleasures  that  season  attend, 
And  Fortune  still  leave  us  a  bottle  and  friend." 

The  Rev.  Richard  Warner,  writing  in  1804,  said : — Burton- 
on-Trent  employs  seven  breweries  ''in  making  that  rich  and 
glutinous  beverage  named  after  the  town,  and  well  known  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Gray's  Inn  Lane — <  balm  of  the  cares,  sweet 
solace  of  the  toils,'  of  many  an  exhausted  limb  of  the  law,  who 
at  the  renowned  Peacock  reinvigorates  the  powers  with  a  nipper- 
kin  of  Burton  ale  and  a  whiff  of  the  Indian  weed." 


Breteert.  527 

According  to  the  cnunt  of  tSzi,  there  were  oolj  867  men 
aad  6 1  boyi  engi^ed  m  nZT  the  brewcriei  then  in  work  at  Butoo. 

At  the  preaent  ttme,  the  number  ii  17,  the  following  beiog 
the  name*  of  the  Tariooi  finni :— AllMipp  &  Soni,  Bav  ft 
Co.,  Bell  &  Co.,  Bardie;  &  Co.,  Boddington  &  Ca.  Bovrier 
Brt.,  Bnrton  Brewery  Company,  Cbarringtoa  &  Co.i  Cooper 
tt  Co.,  Dawion  Sc  Co..  Ewlie,  Jak  Eraihed,  S.  Green  ft 
Clarluoa,  Hill  ft  Son,  Irnl  Coope  ft  Co.,  Mnn,  Croanaan  ft 
Paolra,  Mantoa  ft  Sou,  NnoDely,  Joteph,  ft  Caj  Porter  ft 
.  Son,  RobinaoD  ft  Co.,  Salt  ft  Co.,  Syke*  ft  Co.,  Thompaoa  ft 
Son,  Tfuman,  Haoboiy,  Buxton  ft  Co.,  Walker  ft  Son, 
Walker  Peter,  Execn.  of  j  Worthingtoo  ft  Co. 

The  mainapriog  of  the  great  ucceM  of  the  Barton  biewera  ia 
nndoubtedly  due  to  the  peculiar  quality  of  the  water.  It  ia 
known,  ny*  the  Lmett,  that  thne  alea  ipeedily  become  bright 
and  clear,  that  they  oerer  require  "fioinga"  to  be  employed,  and 
are  6t  for  uk  almoft  ai  toon  ai  Ivewed.  Now  the  depurating 
power  of  lime  u  well  known,  inaamuch  that  it  hai  long  been  em- 
ployed ia  tbe  clarification  of  caoe  and  other  Tegnable  juicM  {  and  it 
it,  no  doubt,  to  the  preteoce  and  predpttatioD  of  thit  nbataoce  that 
the  action  of  tbe  Burton  water  in  rendering  beer  traniparent  and 
bright  ii  attributable  i  It  It  curioua,  contjauet  Dr  Buahoan,  that 
water  pouetang  theae  peculiar  propeitiet  it  confined  to  certain 
localitiet  in  thii  dinrict,  aeparated  in  loroe  iaitancet  only  a  few  feet 
from  each  oth^.  It  ia  a  fact  that  more  than  one  brewery  attempted 
ID  Burton-on-Trent  baa  been  cloaed,  became,  being  Btuated  at 
tbe  other  eod  of  tbe  town,  the  apeculatora  have  found  the  water 
of  a  totally  different  quality,  and  their  outlay  of  labour  and  capital 
ha*  prOTcd  utteHy  fhiitleM.  The  retult  wai  foretold  by  the  elder 
Darwin : — **  I  cannot  leave  thii  account  of  the  calceroua  or  hard 
water  of  Bunoa  without  adding  that  I  tuppote,  from  the  great 
affinity  between  calcareoua  earth  and  tulphuric  add,  may  be  ez- 
plained  a  drcumttaoce,  the  theory  of  which  baa  nerer  been 
undentood,  and  therefore  the  (act  haa  generally  been  doubted, 
and  that  ia,  that  hard  water*  make  itronger  beer  than  aoft  ooet. 
I  appeal  to  the  brewera  of  Button  for  tbe  fact,  who  have  the  aoft 
water  of  the  Trent  running  on  one  nde  of  their  bnwhooaea,  and 


5^8  InPrauerfAU. 

yet  prefer  oiUTeraaUy  the  harder  calcareous  water  supplied  by  their 
pump.  I  suppose  there  may  be  some  saccharine  quality  with 
malt  (which  is  not  all  of  it  equally  perfectly  made  into  sugar  by 
the  Teget^le  digesting  power  of  the  germinating  barley)  which 
by  its  attracting  the  calcareous  earths  of  hard  waters  may  produce 
a  kind  of  mineral  sugar,  which,  like  the  true  sugar,  may  be  con- 
vertible into  spirit." 

As  no  notice  of  the  brewing  trade  could  be  made  without 
roAitiomng  the  two  kings  thereof — Bass  and  Allsopp — a  short 
sketch  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  these  houses  will  not  be  out 
of  place.  I  will  commence  with  the  late  Baron  Hindlip,  who 
will  now,  1887,  be  always  better  known  as  Sir  Henry  Allsopp, 
as  Lord  Beaconsfield  was  as  Benjamin  D'lsraelL 

Dr  Shaw,  in  his  <'  History  and  Antiquities  of  Stafibrdshire, 
1 798,**  in  speaking  of  the  brewing  trade  of  Burton,  says : — **  The 
first  origin  of  this  business  here  was  about  ninety  years  ago,  and 
simply  commenced  with  a  few  public-houses ;  and  one  Benjamin 
Prilson  (a  misprint  for  Wilson)  was  the  first  who  began  in  a 
small  way  the  business  of  a  common  brewer.  This  Benjamin 
Wilson  was  either  the  father  of  the  first  great  brewer  of  Burton 
ales,  or,  it  may  have  been  himself,  for  his  letters  (still  extant) 
show  that  he  had  established  a  fine  flourishing  foreign  trade  in 
Burton  ales  in  1 748." 

I  am  indebted  to  much  of  the  following  to  a  clever  little  work 
on  ''Burton  and  its  Beer,"  written  by  Dr  Bushnan  in  1852, 
who  takes  up  the  thread  of  the  narrative  where  Dr  Shaw  leaves 
off:— 

''To  found  by  individual  exertion,  a  new  trade  which  shaU 
enrich  a  whole  community ;  to  establish  a  great  mercantile  house, 
and  so  to  consolidate  the  character  of  its  productions  as  to  ensure 
not  only  a  continuance  of  its  reputation,  but  a  permanent  advantage 
to  the  locality  where  its  operations  are  carried  on — are  works  of 
no  ordinary  merit — tasks  demanding  no  small  expenditure  of 
labour,  and  the  possession  of  no  ordinary  talent.  Fortunate, 
indeed,  was  it  for  the  town  of  Burton-on-Trent  that  m  Benjamin 
Wilson  and  his  successor,  Samuel  AJlsopp,  it  possessed  two  men 
equal  to  such  works.     A  man  more  competent  than  Benjamin 


Brewers.  529 

Wilson  cannot  be  eaaly  imaginecL     With  a  mind  firm  and  dit- 
ciplinedy  comprefaennre  in  hia  views  of  bnsinessy  and  at  the  same 
time  minutely  careful  in  details,  he  was  of  a  truly  large  spirit,  yet 
a  shrewd  financier ;  the  very  soul  of  honour,  and  thorough  man  of 
business;  a  theorist,  yet  a  practical  man;   a  speculator,  yet  of 
caution  bordering  on  closeness.     True  in  his  friendships,  exact  in 
his  engagements,  simple  in  manners,  hearty  in  fiedings,  amiable  in 
demeanour,  courteous  m  all  communications,  he  never  lost  a  friend 
or  made  an  enemy ;  he  extended  his  transactions  without  creating 
jealousy,  and  rendering  every  customer  a  warm  partizan.     The 
character  he  achieved  for  his  brewery  he  regarded  as  the  best 
legacy  he  could  leave  to  his  children*     Such  was  the  character  of 
'  Old  Benjamin  Wilson/  as  he  was  aflecdonately  called,  and  his 
character  has  been  well  maintained  by  his  successors.     In  those 
early  days  the  cost  of  transit  by  the  common  stage  waggon  was 
such  as  to  prohibit  Burton  beer  in  London,  except  to  the  very 
wealthy  and  exclusive  classes,  and  it  is  strange  to  read  that 
Benjamm  Wilson's  Burton  beer  was  better  known  in  Russia, 
where  he  did  a  large  trade,  than  it  was  in  the  metropolis.     The 
Empress  Catherine,  and   the  grand  old  savage    Czar  Peter, 
freely  drank  the  beer    at    their    respective    Courts  long    be- 
fore it  became  popular  at  St  James'  under  the  Four  Georges. 
From  the  lives  of  the  Sovereigns  of  Russia  we  learn  that  the 
order  of  drinking  was,  '  A  cup  of  brandy,  after  which  succeed 
great  glasses  of  adulterated  Tokay  and  between  whiles  a  bumper 
of  the  strongest   English   beer,'    supplied  by.  the  founder  of 
the  house  of  AUsopp.     The  beer  was  tried  firtt  as  a  luxury, 
and  then  became  a  necessity*     The  foregoing  facts  were  supplied 
by  Messrs  Allsopp  &  Ca" 

The  accuracy  of  the  firm's  statements  is  confirmed  by  ^Seaward's 
Anecdotes,"  published  in  1823. 

The  Alexander  referred  to  was  the  First,  and  reigned  over 
Russia  from  1801  to  1825,  so  that  we  can  fix  the  date  of  the 
story  within  a  quarter  of  a  century*  <*  The  Emperor  Alexander, 
returning  from  Cronstadt,  when  the  weather  was  roost  oppressively 
hot,  halted  at  a  little  village  in  consequence  of  a  relay  of  horses 
not  being  ready.     An  English  merchant,  who  had  an  adjacent 

2  L 


SSO  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

country  house,  with  that  warmth  of  heart  which  forgets  and  sur- 
passes all  etiquette,  ran  out  and  presented  to  the  Emperor  a  glass 
of  Burton  ale,  which  his  Majesty,  with  his  usual  affability,  drank, 
and  thanked  his  host.  Both  the  Emperor  and  the  merchant 
forgot  that  the  beverage  was  prohibited,  or  secretly  relished  it  the 
more  on  that  account." 

Again,  according  to  '<  Mayor's  Tours,"  published  in  1805, 
the  writer  ^  set  off  in  the  coach  to  Litchfield,  thence  to  Burton, 
£sunoas  for  its  ale,  which  a  late  empress  is  said  to  have  been 
extremely  partial  to."  The  writec  might  have  taken  the  trouble 
to  have  found  out  which  empress,  and  have  given  the  date ;  but 
from  Messrs  Allsopp's  account  we  take  it  to  have  been*  Catherine 
of  Russia. 

When  the  Trent  Navigation  Bill  had  passed  and  the  work 
carried  out,  the  trade  of  Burton  was  extended  to  Hull,  the  then 
great  port  of  the  Baltic  ;  and  a  large  and  extending  business  was 
done  by  ^old  Benjamin  Wilson"  with  the  North  Sea  captains, 
who  liked  the  liquor  themselves   and   introduced  it  to   their 
respective  ports.     The  records  and  business  letters  of  the  founder 
of  the  firm  are  interesting  as  showing  the  gigantic  results  that  have 
sprung  from  small  beginnings.     In  1774  Mr  Wilson  wrote:  <*  We 
have  already  two  large  brewhouses  employed,  and  about  to  use  a 
third.     With  respect  to  the  quantity  of  ale  likely  to  go  to  St 
Petersburg,  it  would  be  very  considerable  could  the  order  be  com- 
pleted ;  but,  from  various  causes,  that  is  impossible.     The  other 
ports  have  made  considerable  demands  upon  us  this  year,  so  that 
though  a  great  deal  of  ale  will  be  brew'd  from  this  time  to  the  5th 
of  April,  yet  we  hope  and  believe  Petersburg  cannot  be  over- 
charged. Our  orders  for  that  place  exceed  six  hundred  hogsheads." 
That  Benjamin  Wilson  deserved  the  high  estimation  m  which  he 
was  held  is  shown  by  a  letter  to  one  of  his  correspondents  in  St 
Petersburg,  b  which  the  following  passage  occurs :  <<  To  people 
who  have  the  credit  of  their  own  manufacture  and  the  inseparable 
interest  of  their  friends  at  heart,  we  cannot  but  feel  an  accumulated 
satisfaction  at  every  additional  instance  of  our  ale  proving  fine  and 
distinguishing  itself,  which,  in  justice  to  its  character,  we  have  ye 
happiness  to  say  our  friends  have  universally  confirmed."     '*  Old 


Brewers.  531 

Wilton  "  traded  m  partnership  with  his  brother,  who  retired  in 
1775,  and.  in  due  time  Benjamin  Wilson,  jun,,  succeeded  with 
his  father.  In  the  course  of  years  and  nature  the  house  became 
Wilson  Brothers.  Then  a  marriage  between  the  daughter  of 
Wilson,  pert^  and  James  AUsopp  of  the  knightly  &mily  of 
AUsopp  of  the  Dale,  paved  the  way  to  the  present  firm  of  Allaopp 
&^Company.  The  Allsopps  have  always  been  of  aristocratic  race. 
The  founder  of  the  family  was  Hugh  de  AUsopp,  who  fought  with 
Richard  I.  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  disdnguished  himself  at  Acre. 
For  seventeen  generations  the  Allsopps  lived  at  the  Dale,  near  the 
Peak,  and  were  of  the  county  families,  par  excdlence^  when  Mr  Jas. 
Allsopp  joined  connubially  and  commercially  the  house  of  Wilson, 
and  the  firm  became  still  more  famous  as  ^  Wilson  &  Allsopp." 
The  last  name,  however,  appears  in  connection  with  brewing  at  a 
date  long  anterior  to  the  above-named  partnership.  Pepys,  in  his 
diary,  mentions  a  Mr  Allsopp  as  the  king's  brewer,  and  the 
peculiar  confidential  position  which  he  enjoyed  in  the  household 
of  Charles  II.  To  return  to  a  later  date,  Mr  James  AUsopp  had 
a  son  Samuel  (nephew  of  Benjamin  WUson,  jun.),  who  was  taken 
into  partnership  by  his  uncle  ;  and  the  late  head  of  the  firm.  Baron 
Hindlip,  who  died  recently  (1887),  fuU  of  years  as  he  was  of 
honours,  was  a  son  of  the  aforementioned  Samuel  Allsopp.  This 
is  briefly  a  sketch  of  the  firm  for  about  1 50  years.  Whether 
**  old "  WUson  buUt  the  first  brewery  he  occupied  or  not  is  a 
moot  point. .  The  author  we  have  quoted  so  freely  from  gives 
currency  to  a  tradition  that  ^  The  brewery  was  so  old  that  no 
one  ever  heard  of  its  having  a  beginning.  The  very  land  it  stood 
upon  was  freehold,  and  that  made  it  out  to  be  older  than  the 
Abbey." 

I  certainly  cannot  congratulate  Buxton  and  its  brewers  on  the 
possession  of  a  poet,  when  this  is  the  sort  of  thing  turned  out : — 

This  ale  must  come  from  AIlsopp's  vat. 

It  is  so  bright  and  roeUow ; 
There's  none  but  he  can  brew  Uke  that — 

Oh !  he's  a  famous  fellow  I 

2  L  2 


532  In  Praise  of  Ale. 

Such  ale  as  this,  wherever  sought. 
None  other  could  inyent,  sirs ! 

'Tis  only  brewed,  'tis  only  bought. 
At  BurtOQ-upon-Tient,  sirs. 


The  next  couplet  is  more  epigrammatic  : — 

Baii^i  immortal  ak  sbaO  make  ui  giy  s 
He  boUi  out  loi^getiy*  Shites  bit  clay, 
Sam.  Catherall  to  Kt  Friend  Heakne,  Not.  2,  1729. 

Bass  is  the  complement  of  Burton  as  Beaconsfield  b  of 
Hughenden.  The  munificence  of  the  house  of  Bass  is  almost 
unparalleled  eren  in  this  country,  where  our  merchant  kings  and 
princes  seem  occasionally  to  rival  each  other  in  their  wise  munifi- 
cence. I  notice  that  the  endowments  apd  benefactions  made  by 
this  firm  towards  education,  recreation,  and  religious  mstniction, 
amounted,  some  time  ago  to  over  ^^  12  2,00a  Such  a  sum  given 
by  one  house  of  business  appears  almost  incredible ;  but  it  is  not 
only  the  princely  munificence  as  the  wise  administration  and  dis- 
position of  these  funds  that  give  a  double  value  to  their  works  and 
labours  that  proceed  of  love.  I  met  the  late  Mr  M.  T.  Bass  years 
ago  in  relation  to  the  efifbrts  then  being  made  to  ameliorate  the  con- 
dition of  railway  servants.  I  shall  never  forget  the  thoroughness 
with  which  he  entered  into  this  work.  I  think  he  had  a  thankless 
task ;  but  no  amount  of  labour,. passive  and  active  resistance,  or 
ingratitude  and  covert  rebellion  on  the  part  of  many  of  his  proteges 
seemed  to  discourage  him ;  whilst  his  mastery  over  all  the  details 
of  the  undertaking  was  marvellous.  These  qualities  would  have 
placed  the  late  head  of  the  firm  m  the  foremost  rank  in  any  calling, 
either  in  sdence,  the  professions^  or  statesmanship.  As  it  was^ 
though  he  never  took  a  very  prominent  position  in  the  House,  his 
course  of  action  was  always  marked  by  broad  liberality;  whilst  his 
personal  character,  great  wealth,  and  sound  views  gave  him  com- 
manding influence.  Le  roi  at  mort  vive  U  rot ! — the  king  never 
dies — and  it  is  satisfactory  to  know  that  the  son  has  taken  the 
father's  position.  These  large  houses  are  reticent  as  to  their 
good  works — they  prefer  not  to  let  their  right  hand  know  what 


Brewers.  533 

the  left  b  doing — and  heoce  their  modesty  preveiitf  them  from 
making  puUic  many  btemting  ^cts  and  anecdotes.  Perhaps 
when  the  life  and  works  of  the  late  Mr  Bass  are  published — if 
they  ever  are,  and  they  desenre  to  be — we  shall  learn  more  of  the 
rise  and  progress  of  Messrs  Bass,  RatdifFy  and  Gretton. 

From  a  modest  little  brochure,  issued  by  Messrs  Wyman  & 
Sons,  of  Great  Queen  Street,  Lmcob's  Inn,  entitled  **A  Glass 
of  Pale  Ale"  we  learn  that  the  brewery  was  first  started  by  Mr 
William  Bass  in  the  year  1777,  when  George  the  Third  was 
king,  and  the  boy  minister,  William  Pitt,  in  power*  Previous  to 
that  period  Mr  Bass  had  been  engaged  in  the  carrybg  business, 
at  a  time  when  all,  or  nearly  all,  the  goods  and  merchandise  inland 
traffic  was  done  by  means  of  the  ^common  suge  waggon." 
This  branch  of  his  business  was  afterwards  transferred  to  the  now 
historic  and  ubiquitous  firm  of  Pickfbrd  0c  Co.  The  late  Mr 
Bass  was  one  of  the  largest  holders  of  railway  stock  in  England. 
The  cost  of  road  transit  finom  Button  to  London  was  in  fiormer 
days  so  great  as  practically  to  prohibit  the  consumption  of 
**  Burton  "  in  the  metropolis,  and  the  London  brewers  of  South- 
warke  had  always  been  fiunous  for  the  liquor  from  the  time  of 
Chaucer  downwards,  and  a  great  prejudice  in  its  favour  pre- 
vailed. These  two  causes  rendered  Burton  ale  less  known  in 
London  than  on  the  Continent,  Russia,  and  the  EasL 

Bass !  whose  fame  is  based  on  beer; 
Bass  I  whose  name  is  known  where'er 
Britons  hold  their  nectar  dear — 
Thirst  assuaging  pleasantly. 

It  b  with  the  last-named  quarter  of  the  globe  that  the  name  of 
Bass  is  indissolubly  associated  in  connection  with  pale  ak,  on 
which  Ptmci  has  apdy  bestowed  the  motto,  jf  SqmJ  Amaru 
An  ingenious  Assyriologist  traces  the  connection  of  the  firm  with 
the  East  as  follows.  I  don't  vouch  fer  the  accuracy,  as  I  have 
not  had  time  to  verify  the  Assyrian  tablets  that  have  of  late  years 
been  unearthed.     The  authority  I  quote  says : — 

**  I  was  much  puzzled  by  the  adoption  of  the  pyramid  as  the 
trade  mark  of  the  house  of  Bass,  until  one  day  I  alighted  00  a 


534  ^^  Praise  of  Ale. 

ponderous  Tolume  from  the  pen  of  one  learned  in  the  aBases  of 
the  divinities  of  Assyria,  Egypt,  and  Greece.  That  book  cleared 
up  the  mystery,  for  it  informed  me  that  the  pyramid  builders 
worshipped  a  great  power,